


Peter Parker / Tom Holland Imagines

by vintage_grace



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2019-10-07 02:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 87,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17357030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage_grace/pseuds/vintage_grace
Summary: Short stories about everyone's favorite superhero and actor. Spiderman & Tom Holland.





	1. a siren's sorrow pt. 1

The music pulses, echoing down to the marrow of my bones and wrapping me in complete and utter freedom. I lift my hands and sway in the rhythm. This is magic. I think to myself as I feel the energy building and moving with me.

I spare a glance at the people around me. Some watch me, others gaze at the ones they desire, but all stand taller, confident. It makes me smile to know I still have the charm after so much time.

My brother watches me carefully from behind the bar, one eyebrow raised in warning. My ‘siblings’ are always warning me about the dangers. “We’re sirens, Y/N. Just because we’re cursed and weak doesn’t mean we’re safe.” They always lecture, but I don’t care. Not anymore.

The song ends, replaced by a different beat that feels foreign in my head and muddles my thoughts. I drop my hands and head over to my brother, offering him a simple shrug. “Happy now?” I sign, hands emphasizing my frustration.

His fingers drum against the bar for a long second, and he shakes his head as he replies. “You’re crazy. You know what Lila will do if she finds out.”

“What? She ran out of punishment ideas last year.” I retort, “Plus, it’s my right to look for the solution to my Sorrow.”

That quiets him. We’ve all been searching for our solution. All these years looking in every possible way for our answers to our individual curses.

All of us, my ‘siblings’ and I, are sirens. We’re not truly even related. I suppose we’ve been together so long and through so much together, siblings was the only way to explain the bond we have.

Each of us has their own story, their own Sorrow, and a Hope to search for. I’ve been lucky to find them, or rather to have been found by them.

Especially with as lost and clueless as I was. A seventeen year old with her life flipped inside out and voice almost entirely stolen. All because of my mother’s fear of history repeating itself.

They’re the ones that taught me how to speak again. Not with my voice, which is a horribly painful task but my hands. They showed me my Talent–that my Siren Song can still be sung, just with my body instead of vocal chords.

Someone taps on my shoulder, dragging me back to the small pub and the clamor of people. Henry gives me a knowing look as I spin around on the barstool and find a pair of empty blue eyes.

I watch as he runs a hand through his hair with a smile as he gathers his courage. “Hi, I’m Rylan. Can I buy you a drink?”

His eyes watch me as I shift in my seat. There are times when I wish I could just say yes, live like anyone else would, but I can’t. It’s the blank glaze over his eyes that holds me back.

All there is in those ocean blue irises is longing without real purpose, the residual draw of my call mixed with a passing attraction. It’s not right. It’s not my Hope, only my Sorrow. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Rylan, but I don’t need a drink. Thank you for offering.” I sign back in reply, and Ben translates as I go.

Rylan smiles and nods, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He takes a seat next to me, and I watch him curiously. Most people walk away by now. Is it possible that I’m wrong this time?

Ben gives me a warning look through his eyelashes. It’s his silent reminder to not get caught up or get attached. He’s probably got a point, but I can’t help it. It gets lonely most days with no one but the siblings to speak to, and even then Ben’s the only one who ever listens.

Still, in spite of the lonely ache in my chest, I nod and let him eventually direct the conversation to a dead end like usual. All I have to do is make signs with my hands, because of course, Rylan has no idea what I’m possibly saying, so Ben is able to nudge him away bit by bit.

That’s Ben’s Sorrow; he has a hard time with keeping people around. Because while he attracts them like flies to honey, when he tries to get closer or make an impression, they run as if he were as bitter as vinegar.

I watch the exchange with a growing sense of hopelessness. Maybe we’re more cursed than we ever believed. Perhaps it’s our cruel fate to live our lives desperately searching for the person, place, or thing destined to be our Hope but to always fail hopelessly.

My straw makes the ice clink against the glass as I stir my drink; no longer having any desire to drink it. I just watch as the sweat trails down the side, and my fingers interrupt the path to draw patterns with no meaning behind them.

Another upbeat song comes on that pulses in time with my heart. It calls, begging me to dance the pain away, to forget my Sorrow, and to lose myself in the Call–in my Siren Song.

But I can’t.

I can’t bring myself to so much as tap my foot. My dance is how I gain solace, how I relieve the pressure in my head, and how I distract myself from wondering where I’ll find my Hope.

So, I remain seated, watching people as they mingle, drink, and dance. It hurts, to see people so happy and loving their lives without my kind of burden. They don’t have to worry about living forever because of a stupid decision you never made.

No. They get to fall in and out of love. They get to grow old and withered as they smile on the memories they’ve made and people they knew. They get to have so many things I only daydream and fantasize about.

I watch a couple as they dance together, every movement mirrored in the other. The girl watches him with a wide, loving gaze. The boy’s arms are wrapped around her waist, acting as if he’s holding his whole world.

My heart stutters when I see the mess of brown curls. It makes my thoughts instantly trail to my brown eyed boy. Well, not  _my_ brown eyed boy, he’s more the boy I wish was mine. Ben, Lila, and the others would kill me if they knew about my crush.

The truth is, I barely know him. All I know is the small bits of information I’ve gathered when he stops by the coffee shop I work at to study. My coworkers all seem to think that because I can’t speak, I can’t hear them whispering either. So I’ve listened quietly and watch him as he pours over his notebooks, sipping on the same coffee he always gets, wondering what he’s studying so intently.

He fascinates me, and the thought of getting to see and maybe know more about him makes me look forward to work. Every shift, I watch the door anxiously, impatient to see the mysterious browned-eyed boy, Peter Parker.


	2. a siren's sorrow pt. 2

I tuck my legs beneath me as I flip the page to another borrowed novel. It’s my greatest escape. Because the longer I live, the more I forget. Day by day, the memories of childhood fade, and years blur together in the monotony of days since the curse.

My phone vibrates next to me with my alarm reminding me to start packing up. Ben or Lila will be coming to walk me home soon. I close the book, placing it back on the shelf with the countless other copies and take one last glance into the cafe.

He didn’t show up today, which is odd. I’ve never seen him miss a Monday at the shop, and it makes me wonder if something could have happened to the brown eyed boy. Lila and Ben always tell me I worry to much, but I can’t help it.

Peter Parker is different. I can’t explain how, except that he was nice to me. Even from the very first time he came into the shop, I had my phone with the programed voice responses. It was another long shift, and I wasn’t in the greatest mood.

Lila and I had fought the night before about a hundred different things and spent nearly an hour throwing tantrums and fits at each other. I was exhausted, bags under my eyes, and barely managing a smile. Then I looked up and there he was-- the brown eyed boy with the most beautiful smile I had seen in my whole life.

The best part was when I tapped the buttons and the monotone voice spilled out of the speaker, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled wider and looked at me like I was a marvel to behold. It made my heart patter in my chest in a way that it only does when I dance. After that, I watched for the rest of the week for that mess of curls.

Week after week, he would come in, order the same thing, and sit in the same seat while he studied. It became a highlight for me. Something to break up the days and add a little something extra to the long shifts.

My phone buzzes again in my pocket, this time a text from Lila. “Sorry, sis. I’m gonna be late today. Boss needed me to stay and help out again.” A pause and then a second message. “Wait for me at the cafe, get yourself something (on me), and under no circumstances leave before I get there.”

I sigh and roll my eyes. Of course, she’s running late. Lila usually operates outside of the normal constraints of time. I purchase the novel and head into my coffee shop. My coworkers smile at me as they prep my usual order. I slide into a seat, novel propped open, and soon enough a coffee in hand.

My coffee dwindles, and I get so wrapped up into the story that I nearly miss someone sliding into the seat across from me. All I see at first is fidgeting hands a top a blue notebook. I initially assume it’s Ben, here to walk me in home in Lila’s delayed absence. But instead, I find an oversize blue sweatshirt and a familiar--slightly nervous--smile beneath my favorite brown eyes.

A smile makes its way across my face before I can even think about it. Right in front of me, unsure of himself and shifting in his seat, is Peter Parker. He returns the smile and nervously lifts his hands in a wave before forming his hands into familiar shapes.

“Hi, I’m Peter.” He signs and speaks the words aloud as he struggles to form each sign.

There’s a rush of blood to my cheeks as I watch him, this boy that I’ve admired for the past couple months working so hard to communicate with me in  _ my _ language. “Hi, Peter. I’m Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you.” I reply slowly and watch him to make sure there’s no confusion.

“Y/N” He whispers as if to test the sound of it on his lips. “It’s nice to finally know your name. I’ve been working up the nerve to talk to you and to learn how to sign. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” Peter signs painstakingly slow as he speaks the words, and I nudge his hand down with my own.

“You don’t have to sign everything.” I reply as I open up the speech app on my phone and switch to it. “Sign Language isn’t easy to learn, and I don’t mind talking like this if people aren’t entirely comfortable with signing.” There’s a pause as I bite my lip and watch him before continuing. “It’s sweet of you to learn--even if it wasn’t just to talk to me. I don’t want to make any assumptions. And if you want, I can teach you sometime? If you’re still interested in learning, that is.”

It’s Peter’s turn to blush now. “I--I’d really like that.” He stutters, clearly still nervous around me. “So, do you mind if I ask you more about yourself? I’ve been wanting get to know you for a while now. In fact, I’m pretty sure my best friend, Ned is kind of sick of hearing about it.”

“Of course, I’d love to get to know you too.” I smile and bite my lip as a giddy excitement and happiness overcomes me. “Ned’s your friend that you bring in here on Thursday’s, right? Not trying to sound creepy, I just notice things.”

Peter laughs, and I swear, there’s never been a melody that’s sounded sweeter than the sound. “Yeah, that’s Ned.” He tells me, and I listen intently to every word he says as we talk about anything and everything.

I can’t remember laughing this much since I first met Ben and Lila, when they were determined to spend a whole week trying to cheer me up after the transition. It surprises me, how it feels so easy to smile right now. My cheeks actually hurt from it, but I can’t bring myself to stop.

The bell over the door rings, and I freeze when I hear the familiar clicking of heels on the tile floor. My shoulders and hopes drop instantly as Lila comes into view. “That’s my sister, here to walk me home. I’ll see you later?” I type, not quite willing to give Lila an opportunity to cut in and change my words.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later, Y/N.” Peter confirms with a smile, which I return without a thought. I offer him a shy goodbye wave before practically dashing out the door before he can see my trembling hands and most likely horrendously red cheeks, or before Lila can catch up with me.

I barely catch a glance at her through the cafe window before I continue to power walk down the street. This is the one of many times that I wish I walked home alone, but still, New York is  _ too  _ dangerous for me to go by myself. The only place I can go alone is school, and that’s because everyone is working at those times.

“Y/N.” Lila calls as her heels clack against the pavement. I keep my head down and try to memorize every scuff on my sneakers. “Y/N, who was that?” She questions, and I can hear the edge of worry in her voice. “Was that a friend from school?”

I shake my head. “No, he’s a regular at the shop. His name is Peter, and he--well--he wanted to get to know me so he learned sign language.”

“And?” She presses, and I feel a knot forming in my stomach. Lila’s always been a protective person since the day we’ve met. But she’s gotten paranoid these past few years. I worry that her Sorrow has made her lose hope. There are times when I leave my room in the middle of the night or extra early for school, and I find her sitting there, staring at her reflection like she’s a monster.

I think that’s when we truly become the monsters those people wanted us to be. “And he’s nice. Is it so bad to want a friend?” I snap, wondering why she has to push her fears on me. And I barely finish signing before I regret it all completely. “Sorry, I’m just--tired.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” She sighs as we enter our apartment building. “Sometimes I forget you’re still young. Well, young- _ ish _ .” I chuckle at the comment. Her eyes light up at the sound, and for a moment, she looks like the Lila I met years ago. Untouched by the havoc of her Sorrow, which has caused her to fall over and over again, only to be broken by the wandering eyes that won’t stop until she finds her Hope.

“Speaking of age--” She continues with a growing smirk, “your birthday is coming up.” I roll my eyes and let out a groan; birthdays are one of my least favorite things. So since I became a part of the family, it’s become a mission to make it the best day of every year. “Don’t complain yet, just listen. Ben and I talked it over, and we think maybe this year, we could have a  _ real _ party.”

I give her a puzzled look, wondering who on earth has replaces my sister. “Define ‘real.’”

“Ben said the pub is gonna be closed for a few nights because the owner is wanting to do a full inspection, and he agreed to let us have it for a night. So long as we don’t trash it, of course.” She pauses as she turns the key in the lock, “Just think about it. We get a cake, have music, invite your friends from school, coworkers, whoever you want. You deserve to feel seventeen again, for at least one night.”

“Can I think about it?” I question and bite my lip in concentration. Of course, my thoughts aren’t on the party, as hard as I try to focus on it.

Instead, they deviate and loop back around to the no-longer-mysterious Peter Parker. My chest warms the longer I think of our interaction. All I’ve dreamed of these long years is finding my Hope, which I’ve been told is just like finding a soulmate. There have been so many times I swore I found it, this love I was created to find, but each time it ended like Lila’s Sorrows, in a painful heartbreak of something that never should have been allowed. It always ends in empty gazes and too-wide smiles from the euphoria of my song.

My fingertips hover over a familiar contact on my phone; one that I haven’t dared to press in ages. Why should I? She’s happy now, and she probably wants to forget everything that’s happened before now. Lila and Ben told me she’s engaged and even invited us to the wedding.

The only thing holding me back is my own petty pride. I want so badly to hate her, to pretend like she wasn’t part of our family, and to act like she never existed. But it’s not true. I envy her. She found everything we’ve only dreamed of. Tabby found her Hope when she met Bradley, and nothing was the same in our family after that.

We started feeling a little more desperate for our chances–myself most of all. It’s been nearly a year, though. I’ve followed that tugging from behind my sternum. It led us all the way here–to New York–then to my job–and where to next I don’t know. Just another piece of the mystery.

I fall onto my bed, drowning myself in the fluffy white duvet as I think about Peter and the idea of a real birthday party for the first time in my life. It would be something to try. But I’m at a loss for who would even show up.

The tears create salty tracks down my cheeks the deeper I fall into my own thoughts. It drowns me in tumbling waves and swallows me whole until I fall asleep thinking of a hundred different things and images of Peter Parker’s smile.


	3. a siren’s sorrow pt. 3

"Y/N!" I hear a voice call over the chatter of the coffee shop's hustle and bustle. "Sorry, I didn't mean to shout. I-I just--" Peter stutters, which causes a chuckle to pass my lips.

"I'm off in ten if you want to grab a table until then?" I question him with a smile as I start to type in his usual order.

"Yeah, yeah, that would be great." He smiles and fidgets with his fingers as he pays for his order and walks away with a glance over his shoulder. I try but miserably fail to hide my growing smile. Peter and I keep making eye contact a random moments, which sends both of us into a fluster and avoiding the other's gaze. 

My coworkers find it absolutely adorable, but I ignore them as I stare down at the time, tapping my foot waiting for the clock to hit the end of my shift. The moment it changes, I rush back to hang up my apron and punch out. There's a trembling through my fingers as I go through the motions and a pounding behind my sternum as my heart tries to beat its way from my chest.

Peter smiles as I slide into the seat across from him. The sight of it makes my head spin, thoughts muddle, and worries seem to quiet. I swear, this boy is doing something strange to me. Every time we've met up these past two weeks, I forget about all the rules and secrets. I'm able to just be me and feel normal.

My eyes trail over to the empty seat next to him, which is odd. "Is Ned not coming today?" I question, wondering why he didn't come like every other Thursday since the pair started frequenting the shop. "I wanted to invite him to my party. Well, both of you, actually." I reach into my bag and grab two copies of the invitations Lila insisted we make.

"Party?" Peter questions just before he reads over the invitations. "Wait, you're inviting us to your birthday party?"

I nervously brush my hair behind my ear as I avoid his piercing gaze. "Yeah, it is. Don't worry, it's nothing special; you don't even have to bring anything." Our eyes finally meet as I continue, "My siblings convinced me to have a party for it. They think it's a good idea to actually celebrate and spend time with my friends. So, will you consider coming?"

"Consider it?" Peter pretends to think about it before breaking out into a wide grin. "Of course, I'll come, and I'm sure Ned wouldn't miss it either." Something about the way he says it makes my head spin, and I can't help but feel my stomach drop when I remember Ben's lecture. This party could either be the best or worst thing that could happen to me. For now, I just want to enjoy my time here. "So, I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk? Just--just because it's a nice day, and I figured--"

"Yeah, I'd like that." I tell him with a goofy grin. It always find it so adorable when flustered. We pick up our cups and head out into the city slowly turning golden as the sun sets. "You're getting really good with your signing. I'm surprised at how quickly you pick up on it."

"Well, I've had a great teacher." I bite my lip to hold back the crazy smile threatening to take over my features. Peter seems to notice judging from the color creeping up his cheeks. "Y/N, I wanted to ask you." I turn to him with a raised eyebrow waiting for him to finish. "Would--would you like to--" His words are cut short as there's a tug on my arm that sends me stumbling into the alleyway.

Panic floods through me as the figures loom around me and Peter. The two thugs chuckle at us as they wave weapons around, telling us to empty our pockets and hand everything over. I look at Peter with fearful eyes. The familiar rhythm swells from my bones and sways my limbs. My Song threatens to be sung with every heartbeat.

All it takes is a few twitch of my fingers before the thugs are overtaken. Their eyes glaze over, arms drop the weapons to the side, and bodies sway to the silent melody. Peter take advantage of the moment, his sleeves lift as he extend his arm and reveal some sort of contraptions strapped to his wrist. His fingers quickly press down a button, and the thugs become covered in a white substance I've only seen one other place. My eyes dart back and forth between the webs and Peter, and my chest pounds as he offers me his hands. "Please, just trust me for one minute; I'll explain everything."

I know I should run, but Peter's eyes hold me in place, convince me to take his hand. This is exactly the kind of thing that Ben and Lila have always warned me about. We've spent our lives on the run to keep our secret safe. Because there are people out there who want to believe we're nothing more than the monster myths have painted Sirens to be. They want us to be creatures instead of people, for us to not want normal lives.

But I trust Peter.

So I let him wrap an arm around my waist as he aims the web shooters and lifts us up off the ground. A squeak escapes my lips as I bury my head against Peter's chest. He lets out a small chuckle as we drop down on the roof of the building. We hesitantly let go of each other, and I suddenly feel cold without the contact.

"Are you--you're Spiderman." It started out as a question, but ended up a detached statement. My fingers tremble as I continue. "I should have known. My siblings always tell me that I have a tendency to fall for special people."

"You fell for me?" Peter questions with a timid, squeaky voice. I barely manage a nod as my heart shatters in my chest. Any dream I had of something with Peter is practically ruined now. He'll just think I'm another criminal to punish if he finds out everything I've done and caused.

Tears track down my face as I think about it, and Peter rushes forward to wipe them away with a gloved hand. He whispers to me as I instinctively lean into the feeling of his touch. "Hey, hey, why are you crying?"

"Because I have secrets too, Peter." I reply and gently push his hand away. "And I don't think you'll look at me the same when you find out."

"What makes you so sure?" He questions as he lifts my chin so I have to meet his eyes. "I highly doubt there's anything that could make me care for you any less. You're amazing, Y/N, and I've liked you since the moment I walked into the coffee shop. Please, just trust me. You can tell me."

"It's not something I can just tell you, Peter." I bite my lip and walk over to the edge of the building. The city hustles and rumbles, completely oblivious to my plight. "If you really want to know, I'll show you at the party. For now, I should probably head home."

"Oh, of course." Peter nods, seeming extremely concerned with my suddenly dour mood. He hesitantly wraps an arm around my waist, and I wrap mine around his neck, placing my head against his neck as I savor the feeling for what could be the last time.

I can't help but smile at Peter's racing heart and rush of adrenaline as we swing the few blocks to my apartment building. It helps me better understand why Peter must love doing this so much. There's a sense of absolute freedom. I miss it and his warmth when our feet touch the ground again. "Goodbye, Peter Parker." The tears start up again as I kiss his cheek before heading inside and pray he won't hate me after this is all over.


	4. a siren’s sorrow pt. 4

_Peter's_ _POV_

"Dude, this is epic. We're going to a real party that we were invited to without anyone thinking that you'd hook them up with Spiderman!" Ned cheers as he adjusts his hat. 

I can barely focus on what he's saying. I haven't been able to really focus on anything since I last saw Y/N. She looked so scared about whatever secret she wants to tell me. It worries me, what could she be hiding that would be so bad? What would make her so think that i could ever hate her?

"You okay?" Ned questions when he notices my lack of response and enthusiasm. "I thought you would be pumped about this. It's Y/N's party, which she personally invited you to. You know, Y/N, the girl you've been practically in love with for the past few months?"

I shake my head to dispel the cloud of worry and allow a smile to make its way across my face at the thought of her. Y/N. The girl who's had me falling harder every day. "Yeah, I know. I'm just a little nervous. I don't want to embarrass myself in front of her--or her friends--or her siblings." The list just keeps continuing in my head bringing back an onslaught of nerves.

It doesn't help when the place Y/N told us the party's at comes into view. "Peter, deep breaths. You're Spiderman; if you can face a bunch of bad guys, you can definitely handle a party with your crush for a little bit. Plus, I'll be your guy in the chair. I've got your back the whole time."

"You're right." I tell him with a nod and shift the small package I got for Y/N between my sweating palms. My heart feels like it's going to beat through my ribcage right now, but I can't shake the excitement of seeing her again. "Alright, let's do this."

The music immediately greets us as we step through the door. People crowd the dance floor and bar area, each one smiling, laughing, and clearly having fun. The blonde woman, who I assume is Y/N's sibling, approaches us with a smile. "Hi, welcome to the party!" She cheers and her eyes widen in recognition, "Wait, you're Peter, right?"

I nod, feeling my throat close up with nerves. "Y-yeah, that's me, and this is Ned. We're--um--friends of Y/N's."

Her smile only grows and there's a strange glint in her eyes. "Oh, I know. She's been talking about you non-stop. It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Lila, her older sister. Ben's behind the bar–no alcohol allowed, and Y/N is most likely dancing. There's snacks and--"

Her voice fades away as I catch sight of her. Hair floating around her, hands lifted, and a dazed smile on her features. It makes my breath catch in my throat at the sight of her. She looks absolutely gorgeous and carefree. Our eyes meet, and I swear I don't know where I'm at for a second.

 _Y_ / _N's_ _POV_

He's here. The thought rings in my head as I nervously wrap my arms around myself. What if he saw? What if he's already under the influence of the Song? I know I shouldn't have let myself go just yet. I should have hung back, socialized instead of dancing before he got here.

"H-hi, Y/N." Peter stutters with wide eyes, and I don't reply. Instead, I just smile and wrap him up in a tight hug wanting nothing more than the comfort he brings. His arms tentatively wrap around my waist, and we stay like that for a long moment.

Lila clears her throat and gives me a half-scolding, half-knowing look. "Y/N, don't be rude. You have more than one guest here."

I shake my head at her and give Ned a hug. "Hi, guys. I'm so excited you came! C'mon, the party's just starting." I tell them excitedly as I grab their hands and tug them along after me.

"Wait, Y/N." Peter stops after a few steps and nervously shifts on his feet. I can't help but smile a little at how nervous he is. It reminds me of all the reasons I keep wishing that Peter is it. "I-um-Happy Birthday."

Normally, the phrase makes me nauseated beyond belief. I've hated my birthday, ever since I turned seventeen for the first time. But when Peter says it, it finally feels like something worth celebrating.

I watch him softly, admiring the way the lights dance across his features as he offers me a small package. "You really didn't have to get my anything, Peter. I'm just glad you came."

He presses it into my hands and signs, "It doesn't matter. I wanted to." We share a smile that makes my heart swell. "Open it."

The paper crinkles under my fingers as I peel it back. Underneath is a small white box, which holds a small necklace with a coffee cup charm. "To commemorate how we met and our friendship started." Peter whispers, and I hold back tears as I pull him into another hug. "I can help you put it on if you want."

I hastily nod and allow him to gently place it around my neck. It rests perfectly below my collarbone, and I touch it to remind myself that somehow Peter Parker truly exists. He smiles at the gesture, which gives me enough courage to ask, "Dance with me?"

Peter just looks at me nervously but agrees and allows me to drag him to the middle of the dance floor. I can't help but let out a small laugh. He stands there, fidgeting fingers, wide eyes, and swaying back and forth. "C'mon, Pete! I know you can do better than that." I tell him with quick fingers and a wide smile.

He looks at me with uncertainty, but I just grab his hands. The beat carries away my worries about tonight. My hips sway to the beat, and soon enough, Peter is dancing right alongside me. His laugh fills my ears as he tries to stay on beat. And dang. As much as he will refuse to think it, the boy can dance.

I can't help it. Peter's presence makes me feel free. His smile brings warmth through my body, his laugh music to my ears, and his eyes make me feel seen like no one else has ever done before. It's enough to let the beat overtake my thoughts and movements.

The party swells under the influence of my Song. Friends laugh louder, crushes finally make their move, and Peter--well, he surprises me. He places his hands on my waist, utterly halting my movements, and I notice a gleam in his eyes beneath the gloss of the Song. I want to scream in joy. It's him.

Peter Parker is my Hope.

It's the last thought I have before the room goes fuzzy. Peter leans in. My breath catches in my throat as his breath fans over my lips. He closes the distance, and our lips meet. It sends the room into a haze, and I can only think about the wondrous boy holding me in his arms and kissing him back. 

We both pull away, smiling like idiots and trying to catch our breath. "Wow." Peter smiles, that extra glimmer still present in his eyes. "That--you--wow." I chuckle at the comment, but the sound dies in my throat when I catch Ben and Lila watching with bittersweet smiles.

"Peter, I" My movements stutter as the confidence wavers, "I should probably explain that secret to you now. There's a lot you need to know." His expression shifts, the previous happiness fading to concern. "Follow me." I take his hand in mind and lead him away from the crowded party into the employee lounge.

"Y/N," Peter calls when I don't turn to face him. When I do, he frowns at the sight of my tears. "Hey, what's wrong. You can tell me."

"You might want to sit down for this." Ben says as he slips in behind us. I give Peter's hand a squeeze as we both take a seat. "Don't worry, I'm just here to translate and fill in the blanks. Y/N said you know basic ASL, but we thought it best to not leave anything to misinterpretation."

Peter's eyes bounce between the pair of us, growing clearly more anxious with each moment that passes without an explanation. "First, I know you trusted me with your secret, and I hope I can do the same with you." I tell him with trembling fingers. "I'm--we're Sirens."

His eyebrows furrow as he looks back to Ben for confirmation. "Wait, sirens. Like in the Odyssey?"

I shake my head, "No, those weren't sirens. At least, not like us. We are people who were cursed at some point in our lives. Cursed to never age, to never know happiness, to never know love, and never to be the people we were before. Not until we found something--or in most cases--someone. It's called the Siren's Sorrow. Each one of us has something wrong. Mine is my lack of voice.

"It ties in with our lives before. Sometimes it's not clear how, but mine is because I loved to sing. My father used to tell me I was born a songbird in a girl's body." I pause, forcing myself to take a deep breath as I continue. "When he left, my mom changed. She became paranoid, worried that I would get hurt or taken advantage of. So she took me to some psychic's shop, told me that it was a birthday present, and made me into this.

"She let the woman take my voice, my future, everything. I thought I was as good as dead." I can't hold back the tears anymore as I finish. "I ran, as far away as I could before my mother could ruin me any further. I thought I was a monster back then. People were acting differently around me."

Ben places a hand on my shoulder and continues. "We found her in Brooklyn, scared, alone, and starving. She didn't have any control over her Song back then." Peter gives him a puzzled look, and Ben offers him a further explanation. "It's the rare piece of the siren myth that's true for us. Each of us has a way of 'singing' our song. It's how we search for our Hope. Y/N's Song is dancing. Body language is the equivalent to her voice."

Peter's eyes widen when it settles in, and I close my eyes terrified to see how he's looking at me. I don't want to see him watch me with hatred, betrayal, or disgust at what I am. "Only the siren's Hope can't be influenced by the song." I sign, and Ben repeats it to Peter. "You were never under any influence of mind, Peter."

Ben relays my message and continues. "We're telling you this, because you weren't influenced by her Song. You have the opportunity to be her Hope."

"What--what does that even mean?" He pauses, takes a shaky breath, and continues. "I'm still a little lost."

I open my eyes, barely managing to meet his. "It means, you can break the curse--for me, at least. There's not really an easy way to explain it, but you have to be willing. It's a process, which I don't really understand entirely, but if it works, I can be free. I could have my voice back, age like you, and have a second chance." I drop my hands into my lap, fiddling with a frayed edge of my jacket before continuing. "Look, I understand if you don't want to, but please, know that I never meant to trick or lie to you. I really care about you, Peter Parker, and I'm glad it was you. No matter what you decide."

Peter watches me with those beautiful brown eyes that still make me melt. I can see the emotions battling in his mind. He just stays silent, and I accept that his decision might not be what I was hoping for. Maybe I was wrong. Because now, there's a look in his eyes that tells everything I need to know.

"I'm gonna go." I tell them and try my best to not run out. My friends don't notice as I slip out of the pub and run all the way back to our apartment. There's an ache in my chest that's burying itself deeper than anything I've ever felt before. It settles in my bones and wraps around me like a blanket as I cry myself to sleep, completely unbothered by my wrinkling clothes and smudging makeup.


	5. a siren’s sorrow pt.5

Two days after the party, I had pretty much lost all hope. Peter had made his decision, and there was absolutely nothing I can do to change it. All I can do was live with it. At least, that's what I've had to tell myself over and over again.

The coffee shop was unusually quiet, or maybe it just felt quiet with my somber attitude. Everyone seemed to notice the distinct lack of cheer and took extra careful steps around me. I kept myself away from usual spot at the register, and instead, opted for mixing and brewing the different orders that cycled through.

"Y/N, you might want to take this one." My coworker whispers with a devious grin as he passes me the cup with the order scrawled on the side.

I take the cup and try to hide the growing tremor in my hands when I read the familiar order. Sure enough, he's waiting at his usual spot. There's a nervous grin on his face as he drums his fingers against the table and his knee bounces up and down. I do everything I can to avoid his gaze as I hurriedly make the drink and am forced on a break by my managers and coworkers. All of whom made it very clear that they 'ship' us.

He looks up at me with a sad smile. "H-hi, Y/N." I set his cup down and turn to leave, but I only make it two steps before he stops me. "Please, I need to talk to you."

"And I need to finish my shift." I tell him, unable to handle the pitiful look he's giving me. Still, my resolve crumbles the longer I'm here. "I have ten minutes for my break. Is that long enough? Or would you rather wait until I'm finished."

"I'll wait as long as you need me to." He whispers softly. My heart breaks at the look on his face, and I find myself sliding into the booth with Peter closely following. "You never let me finish the other day."

"Well, I figured the answer was pretty clear. It's too much pressure to put on someone. I should never have asked that of you."

"What makes you say that?" He questions and tilts his head to the side a fraction. "Because you do remember you're talking to Spiderman. It's kind of my job to help people." I stay silent, memorizing the grain of the wood in the table. "But it would be my privilege to help you."

"Are you saying--?"

Peter cuts me off with a question of his own. "Sh, let me finish. Y/N L/N, would you like to go on a date with me?" I bite my lip and search his eyes for any hint of doubt or uncertainty. But I find absolutely none. His smile only grows exponentially when I nod, and he reaches across the table to grab my hand. "I'll pick you up tonight. Does seven work for you?"

"It's perfect." I tell him as a blush coats my cheeks. "I'll see you then."

 _..._  

_5 ½ months later_

I pace around the large room, forcing myself to take deep breaths. Everyone smiles and chatters as we wait for Peter to show up. A smile coats my cheeks at the mere thought of my wondrous boyfriend. "You ready?" Ben questions as he practically bouncing on his toes in excitement.

May rushes between us, hands flailing about as she tries to direct everyone to hide. "He's almost here! Everyone in your places!" She cheers, and her contagious energy sends me bounding into Peter's room to hide for the surprise of my own.

Cheers of "Surprise!" echo through the apartment and into Peter's room, and with every passing second, I feel more excited and anxious to see him again. It all billows and swells as his footsteps approach. I press myself into a corner of his room to stay out of view.

Peter enters the room, backpack slung over his shoulder and a half smile on his face. I hold back a laugh as I sneak up behind him and jump, but his ridiculous spidey senses warn him causing him to catch me with ease. "I should have known you were hiding around here somewhere." He whispers and presses chaste kisses to my lips. "I missed you."

I roll my eyes at him and unwrap my arms from his neck as he lets go. My fingers fly and shake as I sign to him. "So--I have a surprise for you." He smiles and places his hands on my hips, clearly intrigued. I have to force myself to take a deep breath as I prep for what I've been planning for these past four weeks.

"Happy Birthday, Peter." My voice comes out a little scratchy and soft, but Peter's eyes widen in shock at the sound of it. I hold up a hand to keep him from reacting or saying anything just yet. "And, I love you."

It's the first time either of us has said it. Still, I know Peter feels the same. In fact, I know the exact day he fell in love with me. Four and a half weeks ago, during our weekly movie night. We were laughing and just enjoying each other's company. He was tired from patrol and could barely keep his eyes open, but I swore he never looked cuter than right then, with his hair tousled, eyes barely open, and sleepily laughing.

He caught me staring, and right then, there was this feeling in my chest that spilled into my throat. Little by little after that day, my voice started returning, and I've been saving this moment to surprise him for his birthday.

Peter's whole faces lights up at the words as he lifts me off my feet and spins me around. Real laughter escapes my lips as he keeps spinning me and peppers my face with kisses. "Why didn't you tell me?" He questions still not letting me down. "You're getting our voice back!"

"Yeah, I am, and I wanted you to be the first to really hear me since I lost it." I whisper to him, giving him a lingering kiss and rubbing our noses together. "Because it's all because of you. You're my Hope. You're my everything, Peter Parker."

"And you're mine too." He grins, and my heart swells immensely in my chest. It makes me feel happier than I ever imagined I could be. Peter Parker makes me happier than I ever thought I could be. "I love you, Y/N L/N, so much more than you know."


	6. be alright {t.h.}

The world is full of broken hearts. Some shattered or dented by others. Few by their own hand. All of which share the same radiating ache. Those scars that take time and work to smooth over.

It's on the rare occasion that two broken hearts meet, that the rifts in each organ are mended by the other. At least that's what my grams always told me. Perhaps it was just her way of softening the potential hurt that was bound to happen.

My stomach swirls like the ice in my drink. I had the stupid idea that getting outside or having a drink would help me forget. All I want to do tonight is forget.

To forget about my stupid ex, my supposed 'friend,' and the nauseating truth of what they did.

Three weeks ago. And I had just now gotten the strength to leave my apartment. I thought that it would help to rejoin humanity and be around people instead of facing the my silent apartment or another sad look from Dol. His big brown puppy eyes make me feel even worse about the breakup.

I spin my phone on the counter, half tempted to call up the friend I made at that stupid party. He was so sweet. A vague friend of a friend of his that happened to be at the same party. We hit it off in a platonic way that rarely occurs, but I push it aside assuming he probably doesn't want to deal with a new friends heartbreak.

Instead, I stop and listen to the conversation of the other groups in the bar. There's the party people, the after work crowd, old friends catching up, and the ones like me—who are trying to drown their sorrows in the liquor.

"C'mon, I know you love her, but it's over, mate." A guy yells over the music to his friend. I glance up, curious to see if there's another person here who shares my plight.

Two blokes about my age sit a few stools down. One of them looks to be in the same state as I am. Bags under his eyes, hair all messy, and the tell-tale sag in his shoulders.

Yep, definitely a broken heart.

His friend faces away from me, obviously doing his best to coax his friend out of the depression. "Look, it doesn't matter, just put your phone away."

I can't hear the sad boy's reply, but I watch as he hangs his head and watches his drink like it holds all his answers. It's the same way I've been staring at mine all night long.

His friend runs a hand through his blond hair. My guess is that it wasn't good for his arguments. "I get it, it's never easy to walk away, but you have to let her go. Hasn't she done enough to you?"

A chuckle escapes my lips before I can stop it. Unfortunately, the sound is loud enough to draw their attention. "Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop." I mumble with a forced smile. "I just know what you're going through. Wish we could let them go, but the ones that break us have a way of lingering."

"Like fish hooks. The more you tug at them to try to escape; the more it hurts." The sad boy calls out, and I raise my glass in agreement.

"Wait," The blond calls, and I squint trying to make out his features in the dim lighting, "Y/N?"

Suddenly, it all hits me in full force. "Hi, Harrison." I mumble with a forced smile to the friend I debated calling earlier tonight. "I'm guessing by you're expression and tone you heard."

He presses his lips into a thin line and nods. "Yeah, I heard." The sad boy next to him watches the exchange with slight amusement. "Probably should introduce you two, but only if you promise to not drink each other into oblivion because of your shared sadness."

"I can never guarantee anything." I attempt to sass and take the first sip of my drink all night. "But if you won't introduce me; I'll do it myself."

Harrison raises his hands in surrender. "Fine, Tom, meet Y/N." The sad boy, Tom, offers me a weak smile and wave. "Y/N, this is my best mate Tom."

I slide down a seat so that I'm now right by Harrison. "So, what's your poison? Life, love, or alcohol?"

"All three." Tom chuckles and offers a cheer. I raise my glass in agreement and feel a genuine smile peeking across my lips.

Harrison's eyes bounce between the two of us, obviously picking up on something. "Be back in a second. I'll let you two chat."

Tom and I both watch him go. Harrison may not be my closest friend, but even I can sense the stunt he's pulling. "So, what was her name?" I question and take another sip of my drink. The alcohol warms my throat and stomach, and I relish the small feeling.

"Bree." He sighs her name in clear defeat. "We dated for six months. She just told me earlier tonight that she cheated—kissed another guy when they both got drunk."

My jaw slacks. Fate is a crafty woman, and I wish I could hate her for it. "You've got to be kidding." I let out a bitter chuckle. Tom offers me a puzzled look. "My now ex-boyfriend, Chris, made out with my friend at a party three weeks ago."

Tom's mouth opens and chuckles. "What are the odds?" I shrug and polish off my drink. The bartender quickly slides another into my hand, and I sip it as I return my attention to Tom, who is now watching me intently. "Some luck we have."

"Mhm." I rest my elbow on the counter. Gosh, if we weren't both heartbroken, I would be asking him out right now.  "Do ever feel like you should have known it would end poorly?"

"Sometimes. I mean, Bree and I would always get into arguments about my friends and coworkers. She hated when I even went to lunch with another woman. Probably should have been a sign. You?"

"I had a feeling, but I told myself this time would be different. My friends weren't fans of Chris, and of course, I broke my rules. Every time I break a rule the relationship crashes. 'Friends first,' that's the main rule."

"Sounds like a good rule." Tom hums, and I notice a small smile at the corners of his mouth. "Tell me about yourself, Y/N. No more talk of heartbreak or exes. Let's just get to know each other."

I genuinely smile and set my drink down. "Okay. I can do that." Tom's smile widens as we start to talk about ourselves—ex's not included.

The heartache starts to lift as we smile and laugh. Tom is sweet, kind, and charming. He's amazing, and being here next to him, it makes me think that it's possible.

That maybe one day, we'll be alright.

...

_A/N: Requests are open! So far I've been working off random ideas or prompts, but if you have an idea or request let me know! 💕_


	7. paper faces pt.1 {p.p.}

I lay back against the rooftop. The exhaustion wrapping me up with the comfort of a warm blanket on a cold day. It's been a crazy week, especially with the extra missions Tony has been sending us on. "Another successful day of patrolling." I tell my partner. "What do you say, Spidey, same time tomorrow?"

He looks over at me, the whites of his mask shrinking in mirrored movement with his eyes as he squints at me. "I don't know, Phoenix. Maybe we need a change of pace."

A laugh escapes both of us at the same time. "Nice one, bug boy, but we both know you've come to rely on me. You would barely last a day without my help." I tease as we bump shoulders. "And same with me."

"Yeah, we do make a great team." Spiderman agrees, his mask shifting from his smile. "Oh, maybe we should go get ice cream!"

"Not really feeling up to it today." I turn back and watch the bustling of the city below us.

Spiderman nudges his shoulder against mine. Apparently, he can sense my change in mood, but I can't help it. "Spill, what's bothering you?"

I turn to look at him, wondering if he'll think I'm crazy for everything I'm thinking. "We've been working together for almost a year now, yet we barely know anything real about each other."

"Mr. Stark told us it would be safer that way." He replies, and I realize he may never understand. "We should trust him. He definitely know more about this stuff than we do. Otherwise, he would have never partnered us together."

"Don't you ever wonder though?" I question as I stare at his mask, still wondering what he looks like beneath it. "Can you honestly tell me that you haven't wondered what my voice actually sounds like? What color my eyes are? Anything beyond the superhero persona?"

I watch him, searching for any clues in his body language. We've spent so many hours together that it feels like I know him, even without knowing what he looks like beneath the mask. He shifts back and forth. A sure-fire sign that he's nervous.

It's the same thing he did when we first got partnered together. He was so nervous, and I couldn't help but find it adorable. The longer we worked, fought, and patrolled with each other, the closer we became. Now, I've made the worst mistake possible–having a crush on my partner.

"I mean. Y-yeah, I've wondered." He finally replies as he stares down at his gloved hands. "Still, there's no way to change that without breaking Mr. Stark's rules."

"Not necessarily." I tell him as I turn around and lean back against the ledge, drawing out the syllables. Spiderman turns his head to me, the whites of his mask once again shrinking.

I know he's trying to figure me out when he tilts his head to the side ever so slightly. "I may or may not have come up with a fairly solid idea for how we could meet outside work without technically breaking any rules."

"Define 'technically.'" Spiderman demands, but I can hear the smile in his voice. It's the one that makes me feel like my cheeks are going to burn with literal instead of figurative fire.

"Don't worry, Spidey. I know how much you just love the rules. So, I came up with a compromise. Of course, I can't tell you the plan without knowing if you'll go running to Tony to tell on me or not." 

I form and bounce a fireball between my palms to distract myself from the billowing nerves. Of course, I trust Spiderman with my life. Literally, which is saying a lot for me, even with the whole burst in flames and be pretty much fine. It's difficult for me to resign control or allow someone else to do something that I could do myself.

Spiderman tenses and spins around to face me at the comment. "I knew you were still mad about that. But if I hadn't called him you would have gotten killed in a way you couldn't return from." He shouts with his hands on his hips. "I'd never rat you out unless it was another immensely dangerous situation like that."

A chuckle escapes me, but it sounds slightly distorted through the voice mods of my mask. "I'm not mad about that. Heck, I was over that a week after it happened when I realized I let my emotions get the best of me." I crush the ball until it's just ashes on my palms. "All I need right now is your guarantee that you'll hear me out before doing anything rash, and if we decide to not go through with it, we both pretend like it never happened." Just like that night from seven months ago, I add in my head.

Spiderman pauses and crosses his arms as he thinks it over. "Fine, but I'm not promising that I'll agree to this plan." He tells me and plops down on the roof, motioning for me to do the same. "So, what's this big plan of yours, Nix?"

I smile beneath my mask as I sit down across from him, knowing quite well that I have him entirely hooked. Our knees brush against each other as I cross my legs.

"Well, of the minimal personal information we've learned about one another. We both know that the other is still in high school, but we don't know where. So—my idea was we sneak into a school dance." Spidey moves to interject, but I hold up a hand to stop him. "Let me finish before you say anything. I have a friend, who only knows me as Phoenix, and his school is hosting a masquerade as their homecoming. He offered to get me a ticket if I wanted. So I got to thinking, we could finally get to know each other outside of superhero work and the suits, without compromising identities."

"And how do I know it's not your school? Or how do you know it's not my school? Someone could recognize us." Spiderman counters, and I shrug in reply.

"Then we don't do it. No need to share the reasons. I don't know if it helps, but it's going to be at EAST. You know the fancy 'Edison Academy for Science and Technology' place?" I tell him and bite my lip as I feel my stomach drop at the idea of not getting to know a piece of who he is underneath it all. "I just thought it was something worth considering. We would still have masks on, which keeps us partially hidden. There's less chance of being recognized even if it was one of our schools. And I could finally know more about my partner."

"Mr. Stark would kill us if he found out."

"Who said he had to?" I question with a small bit of hope. "You don't have to give me an answer today. My friend says we have until Friday; so I'll leave you to consider it. I'll see you tomorrow, bug boy." He nods, and I'm unconvinced he wouldn't hear anything else I say as I leave. But it doesn't change the fact that I feel his eyes trailing after me as I hop on the ledge and freefall off.

I relish the feeling of the wind in my hair as I tumble. Unfortunately, it only lasts a second before the flames instinctively kick in and lift me into flight. There's a bubble of laughter that escapes from my lips as I relax and allow myself to enjoy the flight.

It's a small moment of freedom, and I relish in every second of it as my building comes into view. The flames extinguish with a burst as I drop the last few feet to the roof and land with a thud.

I pause for a second to make sure no one's around, and like always, there's no one up this late to care about a superhero on a random building's roof.

"Back to reality, Y/N." I whisper to myself and swing myself onto the fire escape. The metal stairs creak and groan as I slip down the few flights to my waiting window. Mom and Dad are always lecturing me about the dangers of leaving it open all the time, but eventually they stopped and just agreed to put a screen in to keep pigeons and bugs out.

Fortunately for me, they have no idea that I pop it out every night. It silently tumbles onto my rug, and I follow after it. One booted foot inside and then a second. All the while covered by a quiet hum from my stereo and nothing else. I mentally congratulate myself on another successful night.

The apartment remains quiet as I peel off my suit and get ready for bed. Still, the whole time, I can't help but wonder if maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I've misinterpreted our exchanges these past few months. Maybe—maybe I'm letting my silly crush get the best of me.

I swore things were different since the incident. Now, I'm starting to question it.

 

Seven Months Ago

"No fair! Why didn't Tony recruit me earlier so I could go to Germany?!" I complain and cross my arms in a childish pout. "I would have been way cooler to bring to a fight. No offense, bug boy."

Spiderman just shakes his head and feigns hurt. "Oh, that's a low blow, Nix." He bumps shoulders with mind, and I'm suddenly very thankful for Tony's suit having a full mask to hide my blush. "C'mon, one day we'll be there. We'll be Avengers, Phoenix!"

I open my mouth to reply, but the alarms in our suits go off before I can make a sound. The information pulls up on my across my display. Apartment building on 5th reporting major fire. NYFD responding but requiring help. "Duty calls. Let's get going, Spidey."

Neither of us talks as he swings from building to building, and I blast myself right behind him. "What's the plan, Nix?" Spiderman calls over the coms, and I struggle to let myself not get flustered at the nickname.

"Fire Department is gonna be taming the flames and trying to evacuate. We should work on the upper floors and make our way down to meet them." I pause and pull a tight turn. "I'll go in, bring people to the windows, and let you lower them down."

"You sure you don't want me in there with you?" He questions, and all I can think of is what happened to my brother and how it made me Phoenix.

"No." I snap. "Do not enter under any circumstances. I'll be able to handle myself in there. Fire is kinda my thing, in case you forgot."

"Okay, if you insist." He replies as we make it to the blazing building. I watch as he clings to the side of the building and only momentarily slow down before launching myself into the top-level of apartments. "Three people on this floor, Nix. Two in the far right apartment; one on the place to your left."

"Got it." I call as I tame the flames, letting them wrap around me and sink into my skin. "Hello? If you can hear me, call out. Just keep shouting so I can find you."

Sure enough, timid voices call out beneath the billowing smoke, and I weave my way through it all to find them.

First, I find a middle aged man, trying to make his way out of the building, but only getting trapped by the flames. "There's a clear path out. Just make your way to the window and my partner will get you out safely."

Spiderman and I went like that for three floors. I would find the people, send them his way, and move on to the next group. Well, it was going like that until my A.I. system warned me about the buildings structure being compromised and started glitching out. Spiderman kept shouting, but I was determined to make absolutely sure the floor was clear. "Nix, get out of there. Now!"

"I can't. There could be someone still trapped." I shout back at him. All I could think of was the horror we felt a year ago when we were stuck in the fire at our dad's place. "I'm almost done. There's only one more place to check."

"No, Phoenix, get out of there RIGHT NOW!" His voice is truly panicked, and it causes me to hesitate. Unfortunately, that split second is just enough for the ceiling to collapse behind me. I swear into my com and move to find another way out. "Nix, say something!"

"I'm trying to figure a way ou--" The words are caught in my throat as I get pinned beneath another chunk of ceiling. My chest grows tight as I try to move, but I don't have super strength. I stretch out my arm to tug at the flames. "Stuck," is the only word I can manage whisper as things start to become hazy.

Spiderman is screaming in my ear, calling for me to stay with him and wait until Mr. Stark arrives. I do my best to allow the flames to give me enough energy to hold on—for Spidey's sake. 

Still, despite my effort, things become speckled with black dots and riddled with pain. I just keep focusing on Spidey's voice.

There's a blast and an Iron Man suit appears next to Spidey, who lifts the rubble with ease. The suit drags me out and scoops me up. I let out a whimper of pain as it all comes flooding in. "Mr. Stark is she gonna be okay?" Spiderman asks repeatedly, but he's only answered with silence.

I black out until we make it back to the Tower. Everything was a haze of blackness and pain, but one thing that stuck out was Spidey's voice somewhere in between it all saying, "Don't go, Nix. You gotta be okay. You're going to be okay. Remember? We're gonna be Avengers together. I promise you. Just--don't make me do this without you. I care about you, Nix."

 

Present:

After that, Spidey and I were closer. We started to open up a little more with each other. I flirted with him, thinking maybe my crush wasn't unrequited. He returned the witty banter, and since then, I've been looking for a way for us to take a step closer--to know something real about the other.

I tumble into my bed, thoroughly exhausted and ready to escape the worry through sleep. It slips through my fingers. Anxiety sending it just out of reach. My phone buzzes on the nightstand next to me, and I peek at the screen to see a text message.

_Bug Boy: I'm in._

A smile dances across my face as I nuzzle my head into my pillow. The anxiety now a fading memory as I fall asleep, all the while wondering what I'll wear to a masquerade ball.


	8. paper faces pt.2

_  
Masquerade_ _Day_

All day, I kept trying not to get distracted during classes, but as usual, I failed miserably. My mind kept drifting off in a hundred directions. Most of which were wondering what will happen at the Masquerade when I finally meet Spiderman outside of patrol.

It's a moment I've been dreaming of for the past six months that I've had a crush on my superhero partner. Every time I think about him, the blood rushes to my cheeks, and I get all nervous just thinking about him.

The final bell rings, and I practically dart for the door, ignoring the calls of my friends. "Sorry, guys, I have to meet my parents soon. I'll talk to you later!" Of course, that's a total lie. I'm running off to meet up with Spidey to discuss the last minute details before tonight.

I slip into the blue and white Phoenix suit in the alleyway two blocks down from our meeting place. It slips on with ease, and I have to bite back my excitement as I ignite and skip between the roofs. "There you are, Nix." Spiderman laughs as I touch down on the roof. "Almost thought you had gotten cold feet."

"You and I both know that wouldn't happen." I smirk as I lean in close to him so we're only inches apart. "I'm too hot for that."

Spiderman mumbles something nervously and rubs the back of his neck with a gloved hand. "So, we're really doing this? Taking a night off and trying to meet each other?"

"If you're still up for it." I tell him and tilt my head. My thoughts keep wondering to what he must look like underneath it, if he's half as cute as I've imagined. "You can still say 'no.' I'd understand if you change your mind."

"N-no, I haven't changed my mind. You've got me anxious to meet you, officially." He replies, and I can tell by the way his mask stretches he's smiling. "Plus, I've already got the suit and--nevermind."

"Oh, don't do that to met, Spidey! And what?" I grin as I bounce on my feet in front of him. "C'mon, you know you can tell me."

"You'll think it's weird or cheesy." He retorts, and I can't help but laugh at the idea.

"Remember, you're talking to the girl who suggested we meet at a Masquerade ball." I nudge him with my shoulder as I continue. "You know me, I could never find you anything less than charming."

"R-really? I'm charming?" He laughs, and continues speaking as if in a daze. "Well, I had to make up a cover story for why I needed a suit, so I said I was going to a friend's high school dance. And my--well, my aunt suggested I get you a corsage."

My cheeks burn brightly beneath my mask. "A corsage? Well, I look forward to wearing it tonight." I slip my hand in my pocket and pull out the ticket. "This is yours, and while we're on the subject, we should probably figure out how to find each other."

Spiderman clears his throat, seeming to snap out of the daze as he gently takes the ticket from my slender fingers. "Right, right. Any ideas?"

"Well, I'm wearing my suit colors, but I can't guarantee I'll be the only one with that color scheme. So, maybe we just wait outside for each other and keep texting until we find the right person?"

"Yeah, that s-sounds like a plan." He returns. "Meet outside the venue at about 7?"

"I'll see you then." In a burst of confidence, I step forward and wrap my arms around him in a hug. He stiffens for just a split second before returning the gesture. We stay like that for a long moment, just content to be there. "I'm excited to meet you, Bug Boy. Just do me a favor? Don't be late." He merely nods in reply as he steps to the edge and swings off.

I have to bite back an excited giggle as I bounce on my toes. "Yes, it's actually happening." I cheer as I do my happy dance and watch Spiderman go.

...

My silver heels glitter in the dancing lights outside of Edison Academy. Most people have already gone inside with their group or date, and only a few stragglers wait outside like me. Still, I feel out of place—odd beneath my silver mask.

He's late.

I can't help but smile a little at the thought. Spider-Man has always been on his own clock, even when we met. I arrived early, and he was ten minutes late.

It gives me a small amount of hope that he'll still come, despite it being nearly a half hour past. My friend, Chris, keeps messaging me wondering why I'm not inside yet. Although, I'm pretty sure he just wants to see his superhero ship sail in person.

My fingers tap dance across the screen, tapping out a message, deleting it, and starting over again. I want to know if he's coming, but a part of me is scared to find out he's changed his mind. I slide my phone back into my clutch and occupy my fingers by fiddling with the blue satin of my dress.

"Please, don't do this to me, Spidey." I whisper and fight back tears. "Don't break your promise too."

A small squeak erupts from my throat when my clutch vibrates. I nearly drop it multiple times trying to fish out my phone, and my heart swells when I see a message from the familiar contact.

Bug Boy: sorry, I know I'm late. On my way now.

I bite my lip to contain the grin pulling at my lips. My eyes watching every person in the hopes of spotting him as he arrives. Another message interrupts my search.

Bug Boy: I'm here. Where are you?

My palms start to sweat as I type out a nervous reply. "Waiting our front as promised." I glance up in a desperate attempt to spot him, but there's no chance of pinpointing him when everyone is on their phone.

There's a tap on my shoulder, and I instinctively swing an elbow back. It finds only empty space, and a familiar laugh fills my ears. "Yep, definitely you, Nix."

I spin so quickly on my heels that he has to catch me before I hit the concrete. "Hasn't anyone told you it's impolite to sneak up on a lady?" I question with a smile as I stare at the ground to make sure it won't betray me again.

"Yes, but you'll have to let me know when we find one." He replies, and my retort gets caught in my throat when I meet his wondrously warm brown eyes. "I-it's nice to finally m-meet you, Phoenix."

I stare back at him, mouth agape and utterly speechless. There's another long second before I find my voice. "Right back at you, Spidey."

We stay there for a minute. Both of us memorizing every available detail about the other. My only thoughts carrying one theme. He's so much cuter than I imagined.

"Oh, um—" he stutters and opens a small plastic container with a lovely white peony corsage. "This is for you."

I try to ignore the shake in my hands and the rapid pace of my heart as he gingerly takes my wrist and slides the blue ribbon on. "It's beautiful. And it's a peony. They're my—"

"—you're favorite. I remember you telling me." He mumbles; and I try not to read too much into it or the fact that he doesn't let go of my hand. Although, I can't ignore the way his thumb trails across my knuckles, or the blush that coats his cheeks.

"You're cute when you blush." I mumble, completely unaware I said it aloud until his head snaps up and brown eyes meet mine. "I mean—never mind. We should probably head inside."

Spider-Man doesn't let go of my hand. Instead, he keeps rubbing his thumb over my hand, which continues to drive my heart rate nuts. Oh, if only this boy knew what he was doing to me.

We hand our tickets to the chaperones at the door, who stare down at our hands with evident disapproval. I do my best to ignore it and fight the impulse to fidget with my mask. Especially as we enter the grand hall where student dance and mingle.

"It's gorgeous." My thoughts ring out, and it truly is. The Edison Academy's assembly hall is notoriously beautiful, but draped in elegant decorations, with lights strung about–it's breathtaking. Spidey mumbles something from beside me, but I can't quite catch the words. "What?"

He quickly realizes his mistake and clear his throat. "Oh, nothing. I was just asking what you wanted to do."

"Well," I look around to peruse our options, "we could dance, get a drink, find a table and talk. I'll leave it up to you."

"L-let's just talk?" He says, but it comes out more like a question. I nod and drag him toward an empty table. My eyes can't peel away from staring at Spidey. From the wide brown doe eyes to the brown hair slightly curling despite the gel he put in. 

It makes me thankful that we decided to do this. Even if it means I'm definitely breaking one of the cardinal rules Mr. Stark laid out when he partnered us. "Sorry," I whisper when he catches me staring, "I-I don't know why I'm nervous. We've been partners for a year now."

"No, it's okay." He mumbles. "It's different though--in a good way, I mean." My cheeks warm under his gaze, and in a burst of confidence, I reach across the table to grab his hand, which shaking nearly as much as my own. "So, um, how did you meet your friend? The one that told you about all of this?"

"Oh," I stumble, completely thrown off by the question, "Chis? I was heading to patrol a couple months ago, but I was late 'cause I had detention. Anyway, I was a few blocks from here when I found Chris being harrassed by some of his classmates. They didn't like the fact that he had a crush on the class president, Tyler.

"Stupid people here are so old fashioned. Anyway, I stopped, roughed them up a bit, and made sure they knew not to mess with Chris again. It wasn't anything huge, but I left my Phoenix info with Chris in case they tried something again. He reached out a few days after to say thank you, and since then, we've been sort of friends."

Spiderman nods with a goofy grin on his face that makes my heart patter again. "That's really cool. I never knew you did that."

"Well," I rest my chin on my palm, "maybe we don't know everything about each other."

"You wanna test that theory?" He retorts with the same teasing attitude we exchange on our patrols. I nod and motion for him to carry on. "Well, I may not know your name or personal stuff, but I'm pretty sure I know a few things. Like that you taught yourself how to play guitar, but your brother taught you the drums.

"You love rock, rap, and pop. Yet you hate metal and country. You tend to laugh when you're nervous and have no problem breaking the rules if it means protecting or helping someone in need." I have to turn away to avoid letting my fluster show.

"Okay, point made." I chuckle, which only proves his point. "Still, tonight is about getting to know each other outside of patrol. So--how about a dance?" I stand up and offer him my hand with a sly smirk. "I'm curious to see if your Spidey reflexes and coordination extend to dancing."

His hands slides into mind, and I have to resist the temptation to wipe my hands off on my dress. Although, I can't hide the smile that forces its way across my features or the pounding of my heart in my chest. My only hope is that he doesn't notice it.

An upbeat song pours through the speakers, and I allow myself to relax despite the crowd of students and close proximity to my long term crush. Spidey's hands wrap around both of my own as we start to sway to the beat. "You're horrible at this!" I laugh over the music and double over in laughter at the sight of his offbeat movements.

"Like you're any better." He cheers back. We both keep laughing and dancing like two complete idiots. It's honestly the happiest I've felt outside of patrol in a long time. The song switches to something slower, which creates an uncertain tension between us. I look at Spidey, searching in those brown eyes for what to do. "Screw it." He mumbles before placing his hands on my waist.

"You sure about this?" I question, lifting an eyebrow beneath the mask. "We're probably breaking more rules by doing this."

Spidey shrugs and lifts my hands until they rest around his neck. "Yeah, but someone once told me, 'sometimes rules should be broken for the right reasons.'"

"She sounds smart." I whisper in reply as it slowly hits me that he might just feel the same. "I have to say, I'm really liking this new side of you, Spidey."

He smiles, which almost to turn my knees to jelly. "I was just about to say the same for you, Nix."

"You know," I pause, biting my lip as my confidence builds, "you could call me by my real name."

The confidence from a second ago falters, and I see the battle going on his mind. "You sure? It would be breaking one of the cardinal rules."

"Well, I've already broken Mr. Stark's cardinal rule number two." I mumble and avoid his gaze. Spidey gives me a puzzled look and clearly waits for me to explain. "You know, 'rule number two: never fall for your partner.'"

"Wait--what?" He questions as we stop moving. I suddenly feel about an inch tall under the bewildered look. "You--you fell for me?"

"Sorry, I-I shouldn't have said anything." I mumble and take a step back. "I'm gonna go. Just forget this ever happened."

Spidey's hand gently wraps around my wrist, which stops me right in my tracks. "But I don't want to forget." I turn back to him, tears threatening to brim in my eyes. "'Cause I broke the same rule, Nix."

My voice comes out in a tiny whisper as I keep my eyes locked on the floor. "Y/N. My name is Y/N." A finger wraps beneath my chin and forces me to meet his eyes. "What are you--?"

Spidey shakes his head, an adorable grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I'm Peter." I barely manage a smile before he gently tugs me back to his chest, brown eyes flickering between my eyes and lips.

"You gonna kiss me or not, Peter?" I question leaning in ever so slightly. He just chuckles and closes the last bit of distance. There's a thousand emotions that flood through me. I'm kissing my crush; I am kissing Peter. My hands rest on the back of his neck; his hands on my waist holding me up.

We finally break apart, foreheads resting against the other and grinning like idiots. "Well, so much for rule number two." Peter whispers with a chuckle. "Can't say I mind though."

"Neither do I." I agree and press another quick kiss against his lips. "What about Mr. Stark though? Should we tell him or--?"

"Or--we could see where this goes and tell him later." Peter smirks deviously, and I shake my head when I realize how much of a bad influence I've been. "Maybe we could just—give it a chance. If it goes somewhere, we can talk to Mr. Stark and figure out what to do, but for now, we'll keep most of the rules intact."

"Are you asking me out, Bug Boy?"

His grin widens, which I didn't even think possible as he leans in and whispers. "Only if you're saying yes, Nixy." I shake my head at him and close the gap between us in reply.

This could end spectacularly or in flames, but either way, I'm excited for the journey.


	9. paper faces pt. 3

_3 months later_

The city lights sparkle and glisten beautifully. I can’t help but smile to myself as I adjust the blankets spread out across the roof. Tonight makes Peter’s and my three month anniversary, and an official year and a half of superhero partnering. So, we agreed to celebrate with a special date night.

Because, tonight, we’re going to tell Tony about our relationship. But just to be safe, we’re having the date first so if things go wrong it doesn’t ruin our _whole_ anniversary. It doesn’t change the fact that my nerves are going absolutely nuts. I slip off the bottom half of my mask and gulp down the chilly night air.

The familiar sound of my favorite superhero approaching. I keep my gaze locked out on the skyline, just soaking it in as he approaches. “Happy anniversary, Y/N,” Peter whispers and pecks my cheek as he sets down a pizza box and sits on the blanket next to me.

“Happy anniversary, Pete.” I smile and lean into his body. “I was worried you wouldn’t find this place. It’s my favorite place to hang out on nights like these. It’s always so beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is.” He mumbles, and I look over at him to confirm a hunch. Sure enough, he’s just staring at me. It sends a chuckle spilling out my lips and me to hide my burning cheeks. He starts laughing too and gently pulls my wrists away as he speaks.“No, no no. Don’t hide; you’re too cute for that.”

“Ugh, you’re so cheesy.” I jokingly complain, but we both know the truth. I’ve never been happier than these past three months with Peter. “Speaking of cheesy, hand me that pizza.”

Peter shakes his head as he passes me the box, and I hungrily grab a large slice. “Y/N?” He calls after a few long minutes of comfortable silence. I hum in reply and wait for him to finish. “How do you think Mr. Stark will react when we tell him about us?”

“Probably not well,” I tell him honestly as I set the slice down. My suit suddenly feels like it’s growing tighter the more I think about what can go wrong. It hurts to think about the possibilities. Because, I’m accustomed to being around Peter, working with him to stop criminals, and having our nights like this. “Screw it. He’s probably gonna pissed no matter what we say or do. So, we might as well make the most of it.”

There’s barely a moment of thought, just a burst of confidence as I yank off the rest of my mask. “Y/N, what are you doing?” He questions in a panic, but all I can do is smile in relief. The whites of Pete’s mask widen, and it makes me blush all over again. “Wow. Y-you’re--wow.”

“What? We’ve been partners for a year, practically dating for three months, and heck-- I think I’m in love with you. So yes, I think it’s time that--” My words are cut off mid-way by Peter, who stares at me in bewilderment, and the realization of what I said hits me full force. “Oh, no. Oh gosh. I think I’m gonna hurl.”

I stand up and pace over to the edge of the roof, making a point to avoid looking at Peter. “I shouldn’t have said that. This was not how I planned on telling you thin. I mean, I wasn’t exactly planning on telling you anytime soon cause I didn’t want to ruin this, but I just got so wrapped up it slipped out. And oh my gosh, I’m really gonna be sick. Please, say something.” I verbally vomit as I pace back and forth. 

The whole time Peter doesn’t move an inch, just remain stiff and unreadable. My heart hammers against my sternum in the billowing panic that increases every second of silence that passes. Tears build in my eyes as I stop and stare at the streets below.

Arms wrap around my waist, and I spin around to find Peter without his mask. Everything around us goes fuzzy for a second. He’s so much more handsome than I thought at the masquerade. It makes my feelings for him deepen. I fell in love with the boy under the mask, but now, I can put a face to the boy who holds my heart.

“Y/N,” he whispers as his gloved hands grab my face gently and fingertips brush away the tears, “you didn’t ruin anything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I question timidly afraid to speak too loud unless my voice will crack on me.

“Because I-I think I’m falling in love with you too.” He mumbles, and I let out a hiccup of laughter. “I was actually gonna ask you to be my girlfriend, officially.”

“Really? You don’t even know my full name, and you _just_ saw what I looked like three minutes ago.”

“So? The same could be said of you, but you still love me.” He tosses my argument right back in my face. Even I have to concede to the logic. “So–what do you say? Be my girlfriend?”

I bite my lip as a hundred intrusive thoughts pound their way into my head. But the voices hush when I look at Peter’s hopeful brown eyes. “Yes.” The word tumbled past my lips without hesitation, without remorse or panic. “Yes, I’ll _officially_ be your girlfriend.”

“Really?!” Peter cheers and loops his arms around my waist. I can only manage a nod and laugh in reply, but it’s enough to satisfy him. His smile only grows as he presses a chaste kiss to my lips and spins me around. “We really should tell Mr. Stark now, huh?”

“I guess so, but after we finish our date.” I tease and drag him back to our blanket, wrapping it around both of us as we resume our date. “L/N. My full name is Y/N M/N L/N. In case you were wondering.” I add after a few minutes of silence.

Peter repeats it like the lyrics to his favorite song; a goofy grin dancing across his lips and a glint in his eyes. “It’s beautiful, just like you.” I roll my eyes at the cheesiness of the comment, which makes him chuckle and press a kiss to my temple. “Peter Benjamin Parker, that’s mine.”

“Aww, I like it, Peter Parker.” I can’t fight the smile that overtakes and plasters itself across my face. Nor can I deny the absolute happiness and content I feel right now—wrapped up under a blanket and my—now boyfriend’s—arms. It’s enough to make me forget every worry and just enjoy the moment.

…

“It’s gonna be okay. No matter what happens, we face it together.” Peter assures me as we stand outside the Avenger tower together. He gives my hand a few squeezes and interlaces our fingers. “Ready?”

I nod and hold onto his hands for dear life. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” We both offer the other soft smiles as we head inside for our appointment with Mr. Stark.

We find him waiting for us in the living room, lounging on the couch and watching us with a curious gaze. “So, how’s patrol going?”

“It’s going well, sir,” Peter adds, the words muffled from the mask, and I can tell by his twitching fingers that he’s fighting the temptation to take it off. “We actually didn’t come about that.”

“Okay.” Mr. Stark says as he set the glass down on the table with a clink and motions for us to sit. “What _did_ you come to talk about?”

“Mr. Stark, we—“ I stutter, unable to find the exact words to say, “we’re—that is—“

Peter’s head turns toward me and tugs his mask off as he finishes for me. “Mr. Stark, we’re dating.” He says, and the statement hangs in the air between us. Peter and I exchange nervous glances as the seconds tick by like minutes.

Tony clears his throat and slaps his hands on my his knees as he stands. “I’d like to speak to you two individually. Y/N, my office.”

I nod and wordlessly follow him out of the room with one last look at Peter to offer him a hopeful smile. Although, we both know this isn’t going to end in any of the ‘good’ scenarios we imagined.

The door shuts behind me with a thud. I try to keep myself from dwelling on just how ominous it sounds, or the silence and judgment radiating from Mr. Stark. 

“Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? I gave you two explicitly clear rules. Maybe I asked too much if you by saying no romance and no revealing your identities to the other.”

I interrupt when he takes a breath in the lecture, “Sir, if I may say something.” He plops down into his seat and motions for me to continue. “You didn’t make a mistake. Peter and I make a good team; we work well together and have a unique bond. That being said, being partnered with Peter and getting to know him has been the best thing to ever happen to me.

“He doesn’t deserve to be punished for being himself. If anyone should receive punishment, it’s me. Because I’m the one who came up with the initial idea of meeting up outside patrol, and I’m the one who pressured him into it.” I plant my feet and cross my hands behind my back like Mikey used to coach me into when we played Army. It’s comforting, and it helps to stabilize the nerves. “Peter Parker is the best thing that has happened to Queens, heck to the world. He’s the kind of person born to be a superhero.

“All I ask is that if you want someone to punish, let it be me. I’ll remove myself from patrol with Peter, give you back my suit if that’s what you want, but I do ask that I still be able to help out when and where I can. It’s another thing I’ve learned from Peter and what Mikey wanted. Because people like us have a responsibility–to help and protect those without our gifts. If we don’t, we’re just as bad the people doing the harm.

“I know nothing I can say will help this situation. We lied to you, and you have every right to be upset with us. But Peter and I have made a better team since we started getting closer. It’s impossible to ignore that. And I want you to know, I care about him. More than I can explain. So I will take whatever punishment you give. Heck, I'll take it willingly, but only if you leave Peter out of it. This is his dream; and even though it’s mind, it would kill me to be the reason he lost it.”

Mr. Stark watches me for a long hard moment. I hold my breath in some desperate hope it will hide my nerves. “Okay.” He states and holds his hand out. “Hand over your suit. I’m pulling you off patrol until further notice. Until I change my mind, you’ll be joining me in tech development.”

“And Peter?” I question hopeful that I’ll be taking the brunt of the punishment.

“That’s for him and me to discuss.” He tells me with a tone that tells me not to question him further. “I’ll give you a moment with Peter, but I expect your suit to stay here. Send him in when you’re done.”

I nod somberly. The dream of Peter and I being Avengers together now seems faded and out of reach, but it doesn’t feel impossible. Still, there’s a different dream that’s taken its place. A dream of Peter being in my life—of being _happy_.

His head perks up as I round the corner. There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes that makes me feel a little better. Although, it drops when he sees my slouching shoulder and twitching fingers. “Do I wanna know?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” I tell him with a soft smile. “I’m off patrol indefinitely. Mr. Stark is assigning me to work tech development with him. He’s taking my suit for now.”

“I guess our ‘Avengers Adventures’ will have to wait.” He whispers with a bitter chuckle. “And this way, we can have real date nights. I can take you to the movies, to meet Aunt May, and to real school dances. Maybe it will be a good thing.”

A laugh escapes my lips as I brush away the tears. “How is it you’re even real, Peter Parker?” I question and let out a sigh as he pulls me into his warm chest. “I should go. I still have to leave the suit and get home. Let me know what Mr. Stark says?”

“No, stay. I’ll walk you home.” Peter insists, but I shake my head and peck his cheek, which makes him crumble. “Fine, but call me when you get home. And coffee in the morning?”

“Sure thing, bug boy,” I whisper him and offer encouragement before he faces Tony. He keeps his arms wrapped around me and rests his chin on my head for a long moment. It’s another quiet moment that brings a smile to my face as I nuzzle into him and his crazy amount of warmth. “Night, Pete.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispers into my hair and lets go. My heart swells in happiness at the thought of spending more time with him, especially without superhero obligations to interfere. It helps dull the pain of taking off the Phoenix suit for what could be the last time.

I just remind myself it will be okay. Like my mum always says, “Everything happens for a reason.” Mr. Stark may be taking it away, but my relationship with Peter is still intact. And if I’m meant to be Phoenix–to be something super–than I’ll earn it back.

Maybe this is all for the best. I just have to trust Mr. Stark’s judgment. Even if there are times it doesn’t make sense, I have to have faith.

It’s the thought that repeats in my head and keeps the tears at bay as I wind through the quieting New York streets home.


	10. paper faces pt.4

My phone vibrates against the table, which breaks my concentration on the suit upgrade I’ve been working on. A goofy picture of Peter and I pops up on the screen with ‘my hero.’ I roll my eyes but smile as I swipe my thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, you’ve reached Tony Stark’s _favorite_ intern. How may I help you?” I tease already picturing Peter’s hurt reaction.

“Wow. I am hurt, wounded, betrayed by my own girlfriend.” He complains, which makes me roll my eyes. Especially as he continues on.

“Would it help if I said I love you and am working on suit upgrades for you?” I question. There’s a smile playing on my lips. He stays silent, and we both know that means I’ve won. “Are you still coming by today? I wanted to talk about dinner plans. My mom wants me to invite you over. In her words, she wants to ‘meet the boy making her baby girl so happy.’ She’s been kind of upset at me for not telling her that I had a boyfriend, and now insists upon making up for lost time.”

“I was actually going to let you know, I can’t stop by today. It’s been super busy out here. Although, I wanted to check and see when you were getting off so I can walk you home.” He tells me, and I can hear a smile breaking through in his voice. “And I would love to come to dinner at your place. It’d be nice to use the front door and not be injured when I visit you for once.”

The last statement gets a laugh of me. “It will be nice for a change.” I glance at the clock and sigh. “Crap, I’m running late. I completely lost track of time. My mom’s going to kill me if I’m late again.”

“You want me to swing by and get you?”

“No, you already said it’s a busy night. I’m sure there are plenty of people in Queens who need you more than I do.” I smile as I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder and gather my things. “It’s one night, Pete. I’ll be fine. Plus, even without the suit, in Phoenix.”

He sighs into the speaker, and I know he’s debating whether or not to come to take me home despite my protests. “Ugh. Fine. Just promise to call me when you get home?”

“Of course, Spidey.” I chuckle into the phone and wave goodbye to Happy and the other workers as I leave. “Later, guys. And bye, Peter. I’ll call you when I get home. Love you.”

“Love you too, Y/N.”

I can’t help but keep working on my projects and ways to help Mr. Stark keep Peter safer as I walk down the streets. The humid summer breeze blows my hair back and provides a relief from the heat.

Although, it doesn’t hide the prickling feeling. Like an itch on the back of the neck. My stomach drops when it doesn’t fade after a couple blocks and pointless turns. I recognize the feeling; it’s too close to how I feel at school when I walk past the football team or mean girls.

I’m being watched. And after a glance over my shoulder, I’m being followed. Two men keep a steady pace, but it seems like they’re inching closer the longer I walk.

My fingers tremble as I slip my phone from my pocket. Peter’s contact lights up, and everything in me fights the urge to run while I still can. “Please, please, pick up.” I quietly beg as it rings.

“Hey, babe. I’m a little bit busy right now. Can I call you back in a minute?” He asks in huffs. My heart pounds in my chest as I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a shop window and see the men approaching.

“Actually, it’s a small emergency,” I whisper with my best attempt to keep my voice even and light. Peter grinds on the other end, and the sound is followed by a _thwip_ of webs and a thud. “I know I said I didn’t need any help, but you know my brother, _Eugene’s_ two friends? The big burly ones that always look at me like a piece of meat and make me _super uncomfortable_?”

“Y/N, where are you? Describe the guy’s to me.” His voice is panicked, and I am suddenly very thankful for the times we came up with panic words and phrases for times like this. “I’m having Karen track your phone. Just stay on the line, okay?”

“Yeah, I know.” I risk another quick glance disguised as checking the street. “Tony told me the same thing when I left a few minutes ago.” Code for: _I just left the tower a few minutes ago_.

“I’m gonna be there in a minute. Don’t hang up, Y/N. Please, just stay on the line.”

A hand rests on my shoulder, and something cold and hard pressed into my back. I close my eyes and take a shuddering breath. My chest tightens as he plucks the phone from my hand.

His associate loops in front of me and pins me in. I bite my lip as he yanks my hands forward and secured them together. Tears build in my eyes. I may be Phoenix, but it doesn’t make me immune to fear.

It billows in my chest. There’s a voice in my head that keeps reminding me, _Peter knows. He’s coming._ It also reminds me to fight the temptation to use my powers. _You never know what this about. Don’t blow your identity._

A van pulls up around the corner, and the two brutes shove a gag in my mouth and slip a bag over my head before unceremoniously tossing me inside with a thud.

 _Please, find me, Peter._ I pray silently a hundred times until it’s bound to be heard. It’s all I wish for as the van whips around corners and tosses me into the sides over and over.

…

My head throbs as I wait for any of my captors to speak to me. There’s four that I’ve seen. All wearing ridiculous paper mache masks and pretending they’re rulers of the world.

A door slams from somewhere outside my line of vision. The sudden burst of noise makes a few of the faceless thugs jump and grip their weapons tighter. It must mean the boss is here in this mildew smelling dump.

“There she is,” the deep male voice calls from out of sight, but he steps into view as he continues, “our guest of the night. Nice to finally meet you in person, Miss L/N.”

“W-who are you?” I stutter and allow every ounce of fear to show in my voice. “Why am I here?”

The man grins beneath his mask. It pulls the fabric, and the thought of his grin makes my stomach churn. “You’re an intern for Mr. Stark, right?” I barely manage a nod, unsure of how this has anything to do with kidnapping me. “Which means you can get us in the system. My friends and I need a few questions answered. We’d like to get some info on some associates of Tony Stark’s. Maybe you’ve heard of them? They go by Phoenix and Spider-Man.”

Everything stops.

They want me–and Peter. And judging by their weapons and the hatred in their eyes, they want us dead. The universe just has very cruel luck to have them choose me as their target for kidnapping.

“My—my access to the system isn’t remote. I can’t access it except on an authorized computer, and even then it’s limited.” I mumble through the haze of tears and tremors. “I—I don’t understand what you want from me. I’m an intern. I don’t know anything about those two. We’re not allowed to interact with anyone. I just do what I’m assigned and go.”

“Well, that’s quite a shame.” The man feigns pity as he crouched down to my level. “Because if you can’t help us; there’s no point in keeping you around. So I suggest you come up with something before I decide to get rid of you.”

He nods to one of his associates, who promptly drags a table in front of me and resecures my hands to the table. Another one sets a laptop down in front of me with the Stark Industries login already pulled up. “Tick tick, Miss L/N. My patience won’t last forever. Try to figure something out.”

“Or there’s always the option of letting her go and calling this over.” A familiar voice calls out from somewhere in the darkness. I close my eyes and pray once again—this time for Peter’s safety.

“Spider-Man, so nice of you to stop by.” The leader calls with a smirk, and with a flick of his wrist one of the underlings' steps behind me and presses a cold blade to my throat.

I can feel the anger radiating from Peter, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. As the leader lifts a gun towards him, the anger boils in my blood. It makes the zip ties warm and threatens to melt, but I hold it back to give Peter a chance. “C’mon, let’s talk about this.”

“Talk?” The leader shouts. “Fine, let’s talk about how you and your partner sent my son to jail. He died in that hellhole. Now, I’m gonna make you pay for it, and your partner too, wherever she is.”

Time seems to slow as the leader pulls the trigger while Peter simultaneously shoots his webs at him. The white fluid wraps around the barrel before the bullet leaves the chamber and the whole thing backfires.

The underlings all freeze, and I take full advantage of the split-second distraction to head butt the one behind me and burn off the zip ties. Peter and I work in tandem to take down the thugs and avoid any bullets.

I smile and turn to Peter in triumph when it all settles. A laugh escapes us as we hug each other in the utter joy of being alive. Although, the feeling fades when the adrenaline wears off.

Peter lets out a whimper as his knees buckle from beneath him. My world threatens to shatter at the sight of the bullet wound in his gut. “No, no, no!” I scream. Flames erupt around the building and build at the sound of my shrieks. “Karen, call Tony Stark and active Protocol Stitches.”

I rest my head on his chest and sigh in relief when there’s still a steady heartbeat. His mask fights me as I slip it off, and the fabric repeatedly falls from my fingers. “Hey, you’re gonna be okay. Just look at me, babe.”

“I—I’m tired, Y/N.” He whispers, and the softness of his voice makes more tears build up. They fall on his face as I watch eyelids flutter.

“Don’t leave me,” I whisper with our foreheads pressed together. “I can’t lose you too. We’re supposed to graduate together, go to college, and prove everyone wrong about us. It’s gonna be us against everything. We’re supposed to make it.”

There’s nothing but silence that greets me for a long moment. Tears keep streaming down my face, and I pray that my abilities can stretch farther than I know. Phoenix mimicry has its perks, but if it can’t save him, then what’s the point?

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry.” Peter’s voice fills my ears like the sweetest melody. I lift my head and stare down at him. The bullet wound still remains, but there’s less blood. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. You wanna know why?”

I bite my lip and smile weakly at him. “Why’s that?”

“Because we’re gonna make it.” He pauses a loopy smile on his face. Somewhere in the distance, beneath the sounds of the city, is the sounds of an Iron Man suit racing our way. I ignore it as I listen to Peter continue. “Because I love you, Y/N L/N, and I’m never gonna give up until you understand just how much.”

I let out a small laugh. Because despite my many trust issues and history with broken promises, I know Peter Parker. And knowing him tells me that this is a promise he’s going to do everything he can to keep.


	11. brand new moves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a special request by SeaweedBrain. I hope you like it, darling! 
> 
> It's a little bit different from your request (not MJ, but the reader instead--I hope that's okay) and forgive me if I got something wrong with the dancing. (I'm a total noob who lacks a decent sense of rhythm and/or dance experience.
> 
> Anyway, if you have a request or something you would like to see, feel free to comment and I'll do my best to write it for you! Stay awesome, lovelies.
> 
> -V

A smile dances across my lips as I tap my foot and watch everyone interact. It’s nice to see the distinct lack of somber, quiet, and grief for one of the first times since everyone’s return. It makes me indescribably happy to see everyone so cheerful—especially Peter.

As if he can sense my thoughts of him, Peter turns to me with a wide grin and a gleam in his eye as he approaches. “Oh, no. I know that look. What are you up to?” I question my clearly scheming boyfriend.

His brown eyes are lit up with childish joy and mischief. It only grows as he inches closer, doing his very best to look innocent. “Whoever said I was up to anything? Can’t I just want to spend time with my beautiful girlfriend?”

I shake my head at him as I stand to place a kiss on his cheek. Although the moment I’m up, Peter’s hand wrap around my waist and toss me over his shoulder. “What are you doing?!” I screech through laughter as he runs off with me.

“Mr. Quill challenged me to a dance-off. So, I obviously needed my cheerleader.” He tells me like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Another laugh escapes me as he settles me on my feet. “Does he know that you _totally_ can’t dance?” I question with sarcasm dripping my voice. The truth is Peter Parker can _dance_. I taught him some basics a while ago, but he loved it so much he learned much more.

And boy, does he have moves.

Peter offers me a lopsided grin in reply but doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Quill enters with an iPod and wireless speakers. “You ready to have your ass handed to you, Parker?” He taunts, completely unaware of what he’s gotten himself into.

My Peter just ignores him a turns to me. “A kiss for good luck?” He questions as he wraps his arms around my waist.

I tug him forward by the front of his shirt and kiss him with a smile. “That’s not for luck. Because _you’re_ not gonna need it. He is, but he’s getting nothing from me.” He grins happily at my display as he gives me a quick peck before facing off with Quill.

“Let’s do this,” Quill shouts and points to Rocket to start the music. Retro music pours into the room, and I watch as the Quill starts off with some old-style moves. “Take it away, Spidey.”

Peter’s lips curve upward into a smile as his body moves to the beat. It’s honestly amazing to watch him. There’s something different that emerges from Peter when he dances. When he’s on patrol, he’s wholly in his element—focused, determined, and happy. 

But when he dances—it’s a completely different side to him. He’s carefree, happier, and more at ease than I’ve ever seen him. It’s most peaceful and relaxed that I’ve seen him since before Ben or whenever he’s sleeping.

The song switches and Quill goes through another series of dance moves. Although, my attention is solely focused on watching _my_ Peter dance. I’m so caught up in watching him that I have no chance to stop him as he drags me onto the dance floor with him.

My eyes widen in shock at him, but he only smiles as he nudges me with his shoulder. I’m lost for a long moment until Peter starts the routine I know so well. It’s the first dance we did together when I was teaching him.

We move together in perfect sync. Both of us falling into the familiar comfort of the beat. It brings a smile to my face to dance with Peter. Normally this is something that we do alone. Before this, no one on the team knew either of us danced, and the shock is evident as they watch our fluid movements.

I can’t help but laugh as Quill just gives up, and Tony quirks an eyebrow as he changes the songs between the genres. Peter just smiles and keeps his eyes on me as we change through from Hip Hop, to tap, and a few others.

We finish it with a laugh and heavy breathing. Both of us grinning from ear to ear as we take in the still slack-jawed expressions of the team. Tony just shakes his head and types something in with a grin. “Nice job, kiddos. But I bet you can’t dance to _this._ ”

Peter gives me an odd look as we wait to see what Tony is going to do. The sounds of a full orchestra pour through the speakers in stark contrast to the former heavy pulsing beats. A chuckle escapes me as Peter makes a grand bow. “Might I have this dance, milady.”

“Of course,” I whisper back as I place my hand in his. Peter slips a hand on my waist and the other connects with mine. “Just don’t step on my toes this time.”

A laugh tumbles past his lips as he shakes his head, which sends a stray curl into his face. And I swear the sight of it made me fall in love with him all over again. Chocolate brown eyes lit up with glee stare back into mine as he whispers back, “Don’t worry, babe. I’ve been practicing.”

His hand presses into mine as we glide through the room, lost in the movements and each other. Still, we can barely hear a defeated sigh from Tony as we dance. As the music swells in preparation for the finale, Peter quirks an eyebrow at me, “Follow my lead. Okay?”

I nod, trusting him entirely but curious to see what he has planned. Although, I don’t have to wait, because right as the crescendo hits, Peter lowers me into a perfect dip. His forehead presses against mine as I relax in his arms, allowing him to have full control. And the grin that tugs at his lips makes me unsure if I can support myself after this.

As if he can sense his effect on me, his grip remains stable on my waist as he lifts me back up and presses a kiss to my lips between our heavy breathing. “Well, that was fun.” I giggle and turn toward our cheering crowd. “And I think you won.”

Peter smirks at me, clearly about to deliver a super cheesy line. “With you as my partner, I’m always winning.” _And there it is,_ I think to myself, but still finding it horrendously charming. After all, I wouldn’t have him any other way.


	12. corsets and courtships pt. 1 {t.h.}

_Tom Holland Royalty AU_

"So, I heard your mother complaining about another failed courtship." Zendaya, or the crowned princess as everyone refers to her, smiles to me over her embroidery. "How did you run this one off?"

"I did nothing. I was the picture of innocence the  _entire_  time." I tell her with a devious grin. This is the tenth failed courtship attempt; each one more disastrous than the last. "He was the one that suggested teaching me to fence. It's not my fault the poor boy doesn't listen to the gossip."

"Oh, no." Zendaya chuckles and sets the hoop aside. My devious grin is mirrored on her face, and I'm suddenly reminded how much my cousin and I are alike, despite a multitude of differences. "The poor boy, he must have been so shocked. Tell me everything that happened."

"What kind of cousin would I be if I didn't?" I smile and lean back into the plush cushion of the chair. The whole story is laid out between us.

A story of an unsuspecting nobleman attending a courtship that he had no clue would end with his face in the dirt and bruises developing on his body. All because of a duchess in a corset, who from a young age traded embroidery needles for training swords.

I always understood my position in life. As a duchess of Astoria, second in line to the throne after my cousin, Zendaya, my life was subject to being married off to strengthen alliances. It never really appealed to me. I don't mind the idea of marriage, but rather the thought of not being able to choose.

Because my lack of choice meant it was in my parent's hands. They don't understand or think like I do. The nobility is essentially a power game, and everyone is always desperate for more. I knew that my marriage to the wrong family, and my cousin could be in harm's way. For no other reason than someone wanting a son and daughter on the throne.

It's what lead me to train and convince Daya to do the same. No one should ever be able to shove us around of treat us poorly because of our gender. And I refuse to allow any potential husband to think that way of me. Only a  _proper_  candidate would ignore the rough pieces and understand me in my entirety.

"So there he was—my sword pressed against his chest. And oh, Daya, if you could have seen his face. The only way I can describe it as a pig realizing it's on the menu." I giggle and push back the pity for the poor guy, "So I took the broad side and swiped his feet out from under him."

"Y/N!" Zendaya cries from laughter. "No wonder your mother is furious. I mean, he sounds like he deserved it, but you still have to be careful. You're parents likely won't tolerate bad behavior much longer before they'll take matters into their own hands."

There's an all too familiar pressure in my chest. Punishment is inevitable in my family, and I knew from day one that their patience would only last for so long. "What do you think they'd do?"

"I don't know, but I heard them talking about the Societatem and teaching you." She whispers, clearly upset. The Societatem is the hub of the Five Kingdoms. It's the place where the rulers gather and live as a symbol of the nation's harmony.

"No." I whisper back in dismay. It's the place that my parents sent me to learn etiquette, social skills, and gain respect among my peers. Not to mention the one place that would surely seal my fate. If they send me to the Societatem, it's because they're going to pick my suitor without any input from me.

My mother quietly clears her throat, obviously displeased with my slouched posture and tearing eyes. "Y/N, there's something your father and I would like to discuss with you. Please, meet us in the study after tea." A pit drops in my stomach as she stalks out of the room.

Daya offers me support as she rubs my fidgeting hands. We both know the inevitable outcome without having to be told. "It will be okay, Y/N. I promise; we'll always have each other."

I try to smile at her. Ever since the day we met, the two of us have been the best of friends. She's not only my cousin, but my best friend and confidante. Nothing has been able to tear us apart, not politics, gossip, distance, or even her recent marriage. It's the only comfort I can have knowing the situation ahead of us.

It felt like hours before tea went by. My parents watched me intently as I entered the study. "Sit down, Y/N. Your mother and I have some things we need to discuss with you. Zendaya, if you would be so kind as to wait outside."

My cousin offers me one last encouraging smile before stepping outside. I wrap my fingers into the layers of my skirt and allow the petticoats to hide my fear. "Y/N, as you know, we have tried many times to find you an eligible suitor, but we have not been successful thus far." My mother starts and settles a hand on my father's shoulder. "So your father and I have decided to accept a more drastic solution."

My father clears his throat and clasps his palms atop the mahogany desk. "You're mother and I have found you an eligible suitor. We've spoken with his family to settle all the arrangements, and the marriage date is set."

I nearly choke on my own breath. "Wait, the marriage date?! You've already decided it? We haven't even met."

My mother screws her eyes shut and sighs, and I hear my father groan as he fingernails drive into his shoulders. "We understand that you have your concerns, but we've met him and his family. There is nothing else for you to worry about."

"I think there is." I snap and wrap my fingers around the chair's arms to keep from strangling them. "For all I know he could be like the countless others who want their wives to be the prim, silent, uneducated snivs that fill the court. What makes you think this one will find me any less abrasive and unsuitable?"

There's a hint of regret in my father's eyes. If anyone would listen to me, it would be him. "I've met this young man myself. The only reason he hasn't married is because he broke off all other courtships. According to his parents they were 'too bland.'"

"But—" My mother raises her hand to cut me off short. Something collapses in my chest. The decision has been made, and nothing I can say or do will stop it.

"You leave for the Societatem with Daya in two days time." She tells me with a resigned attitude. "Your lady's maid is preparing your trunks, and my brother has agreed to watch you and help you prepare. We will meet you there a few weeks before the ceremony. Please, understand everything we do is for the future of you and our kingdom."

It hurts to breathe. Especially when I realize that she's right. I have to marry at some point or else there will be no future for our duchy. Astoria will collapse or be auctioned off to another rising noble family, and if anything were to happen to Daya, the same fate would befall the crown and country.

Tears brim in my eyes as I nod in acceptance and pray for the strength to see this through. I feel mindless and numb as I leave the study. Zendaya follows closely beside me. She wants to know. But I can't bring myself to say it.

Although, I think she figures it out when I collapse in my slowly emptying parlor. We spend hours in silence, until she breaks it by asking. "Do you know who it's going to be?"

I shake my head. "I'm turning in for the night."

"Get some sleep, love. I'll see what I can find out for you." She whispers with one last hug. "Remember, I'm by your side the whole time."

I move to my bedroom and wait as my lady's maid helps to remove the layers of petticoats and corsets. Instead, they're replaced by the light smooth fabric of the nightgown, and I love the weightless feeling of it as I crawl into bed and fall asleep. All the while, I dream and fret about my upcoming courtship.


	13. corsets and courtships pt. 2

The Societatem beats and thrives in time with my own heartbeat. It's my main comfort since I got here, and I love to watch the harmony and unity of the nation presented here. People mingle, laugh, and live here. So much different from the hushed gatherings in Astoria.

Still, even the best things can become overbearing. Mostly when Lady Karina decides to lecture me on the proper etiquette and preparation of a Grand Duchess for marriage. The mere sound of her voice sends nails right into my skull.

"Excuse me,"  _Speaking of the devil._  Lady Karina's voice echoes in the grand hall, "have you seen Grand Duchess Y/N?"

I stand up from my seat, slip into the rushing crowd, and run out into the fields. No one notices me or makes assumptions about my position. It's the perks of wearing a plain dress instead of the extravagant garb Lady Karina tries to force on me.

My corset presses against my ribs with each deep breath. Out here is one of the few places I feel free enough to breathe properly.

There's a story my aunt used to tell Daya and I when we were young. A tale of two lovers from bordering kingdoms—before the treaty that bound us together. It was back when the walls kept the countries apart, but the two nobles found a way to stay together.

It's said that they met out in these forests. The girl was crying, because she had lost someone close to her. The boy was out on a walk and heard a cry from over the wall. And according to the tale, the pair would meet at the same spot almost every day to talk and remind each other of the good that existed.

Legend has it that their love for each other was so strong and their words so deep, that the wall started to chip away. One day, it crumbled entirely, which was the foundation for the treaty that began the unity of the Five Kingdoms.

The story always made my heart swell in hope. Because, despite everyone wanting to see me as nothing more than abrasive and uncaring; I've always wanted to find a love like that. The kind that breaks down walls and runs deeper than titles, looks, or even borders.

"The love that runs stupid deep." I verbally end the thought and allow my fingers to brush over the bark of the slowly clustering trees.

"Well, that's poetic." A voice calls out and startles me. I spin on my heels, fingers reaching to the hidden pocket in my corset for my knife. "Sorry, probably shouldn't have snuck up on you."

"And you probably should introduce yourself before taking another step." I warn and ready myself for whatever may come. "I'm not exactly the kind to trust strangers in the woods."

The boy chuckles; a brown curl falling in his face. "Yes, you're right. I should introduce myself." He pauses but doesn't say anything. I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms across my corset. "Impatient much."

"I'm often told it's one of the  _many_  flaws in my etiquette." I reply with a smile that matches his. "I'm still waiting."

"You might we waiting for a while, love." He smirks, amber eyes dancing in glee. "Care to walk with me?"

I turn the offer over in my mind. Of course, there are three options. One, go back inside to Lady Karina. Two, staying here and continuing on. Or three, accept his offer and satiate my curiosity, with the possibility of proper conversation.

"Fine, but you should know, I'm not to be trifled with. Trust me, it's in your best interest to remain on my good side." I tell him and take his arm with my other hand tucking the dagger back into my corset. "So what would you like to discuss, darling?"

The boy stumbles mid-step at the nickname, and I bite back a small smile at the victory. He watches me as we continue on and chat. I pretend not to notice his intent gaze, but even I can't deny the fluster I feel.

At every turn of the conversation, he finds a way to surprise me. All my usual comments and educated retorts are taken with dignity and countered. It's the first solid conversation I've ever recalled having with anyone besides Zendaya.

I barely notice as the time ticks by, and we loop back around to the Societatem. "Well, this has been enjoyable." I tell him and release his arm.

"It truly was, love. Shall we do this again?" He questions, sounding a little bit hopeful. It sends a dagger in my chest when I remember my forced arrangement.

"Actually, it wouldn't be entirely appropriate." I tell him and fiddle with my fingers. "To be truthful with you, I'm  _technically_ betrothed."

" _Technically?_ " He questions, and I sigh and roughly explain the situation. "Well, allow me to be truthful. I don't see anything wrong with a conversation. There's nothing improper about two people talking. Is there?"

_Damn, he's good._  "Not entirely. Although, I'm sure the ladies of the courts would just  _adore_  to make us into another piece of juicy gossip to whisper at the next ball."

"So, we can have a chaperone if it makes you more comfortable. But I would hate to lose an excellent conversationalist. Although, no one ever comes out here. Apart from us the rest of the courts find the forests disgusting and drab." He speaks softly as we approach the doors back to society.

"I concede. You make a fair point." I take a step away from him and call over my shoulder. "Same time next week?"

"How about tomorrow?" He counters and steps forward. His lips quirk into a smile, and his brown eyes watch mine with hope.

"Are you really  _that_  starved for conversation?" I tease, but end up nodding anyway. "I'll see you tomorrow,  _darling_."


	14. corsets and courtships pt. 3

It's been nearly a month of secret meetings in the woods. Whispered conversations about novels, theses, and our lives. Along with smiles and blushes we both try to hide.

There are the rare moments we catch a glimpse across a party, but the interactions never go beyond that. It's mostly because we would like to avoid rumors and suspicion. After all, we're both unwillingly betrothed to strangers, which I've discovered isn't uncommon these days, but duty demand we stay faithful to our involuntary promises.

Even if our hearts aren't quite in it.

I push the thoughts back as we walk together into the field. It's our perfect little oasis nestled inside the forest. A place for us to be ourselves—no titles or obligations beyond the ones we choose.

We lay down in the field and bask in the warmth of the afternoon. "So what should we discuss today?"

"What's your dream? No titles, no obligations or betrothals. Just you and the world with anything as a possibility. Where would you be and doing?"

I have to stop for a moment to consider my answer. "Honestly, I don't think I've ever thought of it before. Every time I start to dream, I stop myself."

Tom regards me with curiosity. "Why is that?"

"Because, if I allow myself to dream of life outside my own, the discontent will settle. Then it will turn into a resentment of my family, which would only hurt myself and innocent people." I sigh and run my fingers through the grass. "Although, if I could do anything, I think I would want to find freedom and love.

"My mother used to lecture me when I was young because I would slip away from my tutors and nannies. No one could find me for hours until  _I_  decided to be found. Typically, I would run through our land, tell myself stories about knights and dragons, and helping people until I found someone who would stand by me through it all.

"It was silly, but it was much better than lessons on being a  _proper_  lady. As I got older, my aunt would tell me the story of the lovers that united the kingdom. Of course, I already had started learning how to fight at that time and was quite unappealing to all the gentleman I knew."

I fight back the falter in my voice, "Then I started dreaming of something that strong. The kind of love that could change prejudice, that makes even the dreary days bright, that--"

"Runs stupid deep?" Tom finishes for me with the words I spoke at our first meeting, and I turn to look at him. The sunlight dances across his features. It lights up his dark brown eyes and ignites them into a thousand different shades of honey, amber, and gold.

"Yeah," I whisper, in complete awe of him. "The kind that runs stupid deep." A curl falls into his face, and I turn away from him to resist the temptation to brush it from his face. "Anyway, it's just a dream. Especially with this arranged marriage, my chances are a lot less."

"I'm sure whoever it is will love you." He whispers, and I keep my eyes locked on the sky. "He would be a fool not to."

My heart patters in my chest. There's a fine line between us, and each moment like this makes it a little bit more hazy. If I had a choice, I would let the moment keep going, relish in it, live in it forever.

But I can't.

The best I can do is carve it into my memory. Etch the sound of his voice and the soft lines of his features into my mind to save for the days ahead when this won't happen anymore. Because I can't live here forever.

"What about you?" I question and turn on my side to watch him. Lady Karina will likely throw a fit later about the grass and dirt, but I don't care--not anymore. "What's your dream?"

Tom sighs and props a hand beneath his head. "I think I would be roaming the Kingdoms, visiting the villages, learning and listening to the stories people tell. Maybe--if I'm lucky--find someone to join me and marry. I would like to live a life outside the politics and courts. Just be myself instead of a name behind a title."

"That sound beautiful." I mumble. "If only we were able to do them. I have a feeling the world would be a much better and more beautiful place. People being themselves without worry or judgement."

"It would be a wondrous thing." He whispers, and we fall back into a comfortable silence. It's peaceful. No fretting over petticoats or rumors. Just the clear blue sky, crisp summer air, and birds chirping happily.

"I should go back." I whisper with a disheartened sigh. "I fear if I stay much longer, my watchdog of a governess with likely start foaming at the mouth."

He nods with that same distant look on his face as he watches me. "Until next time, my love." My movements come to a screeching halt at the additional word to our usual goodbye.  _My love_ , that's what he called me.

I try not to think too much of it and force back the smile that threatens to split my features as I quip back the usual reply. "Tomorrow, as always, darling." The words barely escape my lips before I'm trailing my way back to the Sociatatem, a giddy smile on my face and an obvious perk in my step.

_His_ , I think to myself as I brush over my skirts for the hundredth time,  _he called me his._   _If only it could be true._

It's a sobering thought, but one I need to constantly remind myself of. I can't let myself fall in love--no matter how enchanting it may be. My parents' have already promised me to another, and there's nothing that can change that now.

Still, there's no harm in allowing myself to dream. So I keep the sound of his voice playing like the swelling music of an orchestra in my head as I practically dance around my room. "Someone's in a good mood today. Aren't you cousin?" Zendaya calls from the doorway with a suspecting grin on her features. "Who is it?"

"Who is who?" I question, completely oblivious to my cousin's suspicions on my little dalliance.

"The mystery person that has been made you happier than I've ever seen you." She retorts in a quiet whisper as if the walls will spread gossip if they hear. "You've been disappearing nearly every day, and each time you come back with this radiance and joy. So who is it?"

Suddenly, the emotions I've been pushing back come washing over me. "He's the best man I've ever met." I tell her with a soft, wistful smile. "We meet in the field and talk about everything. And, Daya, he's so intelligent, kind, and witty. It's the first time I've met someone who can hold a proper conversation besides you."

Zendaya watches me with a glimmer in her eye as she pulls me to the couch. "Tell me everything, cousin. What does he look like?"

"Oh, Z, he's honestly the most handsome man I've met--and not in the usual way. There's something so different about him. I swear, when he watches me with those amber eyes, I forget how to breathe." I sigh and remind myself of my betrothal. My hands fidget with the stained cotton of my skirt as I continue. "It's stupid though. I shouldn't even be speaking to him. I'm going to be married--to a stranger--in a few weeks. There's no point in me compromising that."

A warm hand wraps around my fidgeting one, and I look up to find my cousin watching me with pity. "I know it's hard, but wouldn't it be better to allow yourself  _some_  happiness? And there's always the chance that it could be--"

I cut her off, "Don't say it. Don't you dare say that it could be him." Tears brim in my eyes at the waves of pain washing over me. "I can't let myself think that. It would only hurt so much more if it isn't."

"But, Y/N,--" Zendaya tries to argue, but her words fall short as I stand up and make an excuse about turning in early. She steps in front of me, face full of pity as she pulls me into a hug and whispers. "You deserve to be happy, cousin. No matter what form that happiness takes."

A part of me wants to believe her, but my head silences my heart before it can allow the words to take hold. "Goodnight, Daya. I'll see you in the morning."


	15. corsets and courtships pt. 4

The sunlight beams through my window as I wake up, and I feel my heart drop in my chest as I recall the events of yesterday. Zendaya's look of pity and heartbreak is still etched into my mind alongside of Tom's warm gaze. And I don't know which one hurts more.

My cousin realizing that I can't allow myself to dream of happiness, or the love that I can't allow myself to have.

"Up, up, up, Your Grace." Lady Karina screeches as she bursts into the room as sour as ever. "We have a long day of lessons and wedding preparations to get to."

I groan and bury my head into my pillow. The covers are abruptly ripped from me, and I suddenly hate Lady Karina more than ever before. She watches me with an unamused glare and taps her foot in impatience as she waits for me to rise.

Something deep inside me tightens and snaps. "No." I state as I ball my nightgown into my fists. "I'm going to go spar. I've neglected my training and am going to spend my day doing something truly productive."

My feet press against the chilled stone, and I suppress a shiver as I move to my wardrobe. "I'm afraid I can't allow that, Your Grace. I am under strict instructions from your parents to--"

"Well, my parents aren't here. Which means, if they wanted preparations to be made, they should have thought to see to it  _themselves_." I snap as I prepare my riding pants and a blouse. "Take the day off, Lady Karina, or attend to the preparations. I'll allow you a choice."

Her chubby mouth hangs open in shock. It makes a small ounce of pride that flickers through me. It tugs at the corners of my mouth until they create the ghost of a smile. "Have a wonderful day, Lady Karina!" I feign cheer as I rush her from the room and change without the disruptive aid of my lady's maids.

Of course, there's still a little bit of assistance needed, but once I'm fully ready, I make my way through the winding hallways. My mind drifts as I follow the familiar route, and I can't help but dwell on what Tom called me the other day.

_My love_.

It rings in my head like the grand bells. A part of me wonders if he is merely doing it to be witty, but even without knowing him too well, I know that's a line he wouldn't cross. Which leaves me thinking that maybe he meant it--truly meant it.

I pass the doors to the outside, and my footsteps instinctively hesitate. It's foolish, but a part of me screams to go out there and meet him like always. The rest of me tugs away. This road is likely to lead only to heartbreak and misery.

I'll marry someone else in two weeks, and one day, he likely will too. My heart will be owned by whoever he may be. And he will deserve my attention--and my love if I can give it. If I allow Tom to hold my heart, it's only going to cause more pain than severing ties now would be.

However, fate is a cruel woman.

I turn the corner, entirely determined to not see him again. "Y/N?" The familiar voice calls my name like the sweetest melody. I screw my eyes shut and pray that it isn't him, but there's no way I could mistake his voice. "I was just about to meet you." He whispers as he approaches.

"I'm sorry, but I've already made plans to train today." I tell him with a forced cold tone and sidestep him. "It would be a waste to not get some practice in while I have the chance. So I'm afraid I won't be able to meet you for our usual conversation today."

"Really?" A grin crosses his face, "Then I'll join you. My brothers and best friend are constantly encouraging to go, but I've never quite found the time. Perhaps today would be a good start."

I flex my jaw and want to scream at whoever is deciding to play with my life like some sort of game. "There's no way  _I_  can stop you. But don't be surprised if I don't go easy on you." Tom laughs and shakes his head as he offers his arm for me to take. A layer of sweat threatens to coat my shaking hands as I hesitantly accept.

We walk along in silence to the training grounds. The few fellow nobles we pass pay us no mind, likely thinking we're another courting, betrothed, or married couple. I hate myself for feeling disappointed that we're not.

I'm too wrapped up in my own thoughts to truly process the deviation in our path. Although, it dawns on me as Tom guides us away from the usual paths to a less taken route. My heart races in my chest. If anyone were to see us, there would be horrible consequences--mostly for Tom.

It's a well known fact that the royal family is quite protective, which means that being the niece of the king poses an unusual situation. As a child, before I understood the way my world worked, I would imagine myself running away, joining a knight, and going on adventures. Then reality hit. First when my trainer was promptly fired from his position--all because of my family's fear that we were becoming 'too close.'

Best friends were ripped away from me. Some were shunned or disowned--all because of the appearance of an unapproved romance that wasn't even there.

If anyone were to discover us alone in this hallway, Tom would likely be harshly punished for 'taking advantage' of the Grand Duchess. I want to warn him, but the words get caught in my throat at the happiness so clearly displayed on his features.

He smiles as his fingers shift. The touch is light as a feather as he lifts them from the crook of my elbow. My nerves scream at me as those calloused fingertips trace down to my own ungloved ones.

It's the first time we've truly touched. Every other form of contact was civilized and appropriate with layers of fabric separating us. But this is different.

The look on his face only confirms it.

Amber eyes glimmer with hope, joy, and something else. I can't identify it, but I feel the same emotion rising beneath my skin. My heart shouts at me to interlace our fingers, to enjoy the action, but my mind forces me to whisper. "Tom," It comes out fearful and scolding. "You know that this isn't right. I'm getting married in two weeks. There can't be anything between us."

"Who says there can't be?" He questions as he curls his free hand beneath my chin and lifts it until our eyes meet. "We could get married, leave, and travel just like we dreamed."

Tears build in my eyes. The idea sounds more heavenly than the choir on Unity Day. Even the words of agreement taste sweetly in my mouth, but it's quickly replaced with a bitter taste. "Please, don't. You don't know what you're asking of me or of the dangers that we would face." I pull his hand away and relish in the warmth and comfort of it against my own. "If you care for me at all, I beg of you not to ask that of me."

"And why not, my love?" He whispers clearly worried and as upset as I am.

"Because if you were to ask, I would agree." The words fall from my lips before I can consider them. "And I don't want to see you resent me when the consequences come. We have to forget each other, Tom, pretend this was all a dream. It's all we'll ever be able to have."

His fingers loosen, and I take advantage of the moment to pull away. Sorrow billows in my chest, and there's a hollow pain that presses against my skin threatening to spill out. I hear him sigh as I leave but can't bring myself to look back. If I did, there would be nothing left of me at the sight of his heartbreak.

Tears stream down my face as I run through the maze of hallways until I reach my destination. I barely manage a full knock before the door is swung open, and Zendaya regards me with the same sadness that's echoing in my head. "Daya," I sob as I collapse into her arms, "why couldn't it be him?"


	16. corsets and courtships pt. 5

A stranger in a white dress stares back at me from the mirror. I don't recognize her, not with the layers of creams and powders, not with the frills at the edges of her sleeves, and not with the forced smile on her face. "Oh, darling, you look beautiful." My mother whispers as she takes my hands and looks me over.

"Thank you, Mother." I whisper back politely trying to force any emotion into my voice. It still comes out hollow. A part of me wants nothing more than to scream, shove everyone out of the room, and leave this mess behind forever. But I have a duty to uphold as everyone has been reminding me in the midst of my heartbreak.

"Can I have a moment with her?" Zendaya asks politely to my mother, knowing quite well that she won't be refused. My mother gives me one last proud look before gathering up the ladies' maids and departing. I search my cousin's eyes for any sign--any sliver of hope to cling on to.

"Did you meet him?" I ask her, barely managing the words with my lead tongue, "My future husband?"

Daya grabs my hand and silently helps me step down from the pedestal. I allow her to guide me as I wait for her answer. "Yes, I did." We both sit down on the plush cushions of my parlor couch like we have everyday for these past two weeks. It's become a ritual. A way to keep me from wallowing.

"And?"

"He seems like a wonderful man," She tells me, but we both can hear the unsaid finish,  _but I don't know if he's like him_. I nod, halfway wishing she had managed to find him in all those times that she would sneak out to our meeting spot. "Remember, I'm by your side  _no matter what_."

"Even if I decide to run away from the wedding?" I half-joke, but I'm fairly certain she knows a part of me is considering it.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "Who do you think is going to handle the train while you run for it?" A laugh escapes me at the comment. "I'm serious though, if you decide to not do this, you have my support."

Tears brim in my eyes as I pull her into a tight hug. "Thank you, Daya. You're the best cousin and princess a girl could hope for."

"And you're the greatest cousin and royal advisor." She takes my hand and runs a thumb over my knuckles. "Do you know what you're going to do?"

There's a silence that settles in the space between us. Inside me a war rages on between my head and heart. One screams at me to find him, and the other--well, it's quietly reminding me of my duties. "I don't know." I whisper and stare at my hands. "Do you--do you think I could meet him? It will make me feel better if I could know."

Zendaya bites her lip and remains silent. Her eyebrows furrow in thought as she considers it, until finally she replies, "I think I can manage that. Stay here, I'll send your mother out and try to bring him here."

My chest lightens a fraction, but it's quickly replaced by a flurry of nerves as I watch her leave. I stand up and listen at the thick oak door. A gasp comes from the other side of the door, which I assume is from my mother in worry of some false emergency. It's quickly followed by a flurry of footsteps and utter silence.

It pounds in my head and in time with my heart as I pace with its unwavering rhythm.

_Thump_.

_Thump_.

_Thump_.

_Thump_.

_Knock_.

A split second after the sound, my cousin's face appears in the doorway. Hesitance and worry lace her features as she peers into the room to confirm I'm still alone and pulls the door open wider for whoever it is she brought with her.

My eyes instinctively fall to the floor. Regret washing over every inch of my skin and soul.  _This was a mistake. I can't do this. I'll have to tell him the truth_. I think to myself as tears build up again in my eyes.

His footsteps echo through the room as he approaches me. Every inch closer he gets make my stomach knot even more. It's only when his shoes come into view that I find the strength to attempt to meet his eye.

I barely manage it before a breathy chuckle escapes him, and my head instantly snaps up--something about it sounding terribly familiar. "Hello, my love." Tom whispers with a beaming smile as my eyes meet his.

Everything stops.

The world feels like it shakes beneath my feet as I collapse back into the couch. "It's you." I manage through the shock and flood of emotions. "It's really you?"

Tom smiles as he sits down across from me, one hand resting on my cheek and the other taking my own in his. "Yes, darling. It's really me." He shakes his head, which sends a flurry of chocolate curls to fall into his eyes. "Trust me, I'm just as surprised as you are."

My hand comes to rest overtop his, and I have to remind myself that  _this_  isn't a dream. It's real. He's truly in front of me, ready for a marriage to someone he thought would be a stranger. "You never told me you were getting married this soon." I somehow manage to whisper through the emotions squeezing my throat. "Is this why you wanted to run away with me?"

Tom chuckles and nods with a wide grin. "I didn't want to marry someone I didn't love, but when you said 'no.'" He sighs and traces a thumb over my knuckles, "Well, I thought about  _my_  duties, and I realized that if I didn't do this, it would hurt so many people."

"That's why I didn't say 'yes.'" I tell him, still trying to process that it  _is_  him. "I suppose Destiny is much kinder than we thought though. She gave us this at least."

"Which means she gave us everything." He tells me and brushes away my tears. On instinct, I lean into his touch, happy that I no longer have to feel guilty about this. "So, are we really doing this?"

"Happily." I tell him without a moment's hesitation or doubt. "I will happily marry you--because as much as I didn't want to admit it before—I love you."

Tom leans forward so our foreheads rest against the other and whispers, "Just as I love you, my darling." As if by some magnetic force, the two of us lean closer. His breath fans over my lips as they nearly brush, but we're interrupted.

"Okay, as sweet as this is, you have to save  _something_  for the ceremony." Zendaya interrupts, and I don't have to look at her to know she has the widest grin and tears in her eyes.

I smile and let out a small laugh as I wrap Tom into a tight hug. "She has a point." I tell him and pull back just enough to see his features. "I'll see you at the end of the aisle, my darling."

"Of course, my love." He tells me with a glimmer in his eyes. "Today and forever."

My heart soars at the words that echo like a promise. "Today and forever." I repeat and watch him as he rises and reluctantly go. Except this time, it's not until another day or forever as our last goodbye, but as a necessity so that we can have our lives together, never to be a part again.


	17. upcoming stories

Okay. So this is a bit of an Author's Note, but not quite. It's more of an "I need your opinions on what to write next." Because while I have concepts, deciding who to write is a small struggle at the moment because some of them go either way.

So, here's the descriptions of the concepts. Please comment if you would want them with Peter Parker or Tom Holland!

Modern day Greaser: biker girl and preppy guy

Two heartbreakers who play a game to see who falls first, whoever does loses (planning on this with Tom?)

Assistant/intern story 

Little black dress story: he sees her across a party and wants to know who she is

Escape routes: girl sneaks out for unknown reason and he has to constantly find her and bring her home

Apartment story: a shared wall that leads to an interesting bond

Internet friends: "I mistyped my internet friends username and you're too nice to tell me it's the wrong person so you plays along— and we actually became friends until one day—"

Answering machine messages...

Soulmate AU (multiple ideas, and willing to hear yours!)

That's about it for now... idk if I'll end up doing all of these, but I still would love everyone's input if you're willing to give it. 

Stay awesome, babes! 💕

P.S. don't worry! Tomorrow is still an update day! Lol.


	18. premonitions {p.p}

Everyone always says, ‘if you’re good at something to pursue it,’ and ‘utilize your talents.’ But when your skills are in grey areas that would often be deemed illegal, suddenly you’re  _not_  supposed to do what you’re good at. Not that I actually care though.

Because I can’t help that I have a surprisingly unique talent for getting out of and avoiding sticky situations. Evan always tells me it made me a nightmare to babysit me when we were younger. Now, all he can do is utilize my little trick to keep the family business running. Especially with the ‘friendly neighborhood’ hero that runs around stopping everyone.

In our crew, they call me ‘Delphi’ in some silly comparison to the legendary Oracle of old. It originally started as a joke, something Evan started to keep my real name out of the system and mock the Institution’s codename for me. Now, it’s a trademark. People clamor and 2 for Delphi to watch over their exploits, to give them the slightest bit of advice on how  _not_  to get caught.

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t gifted.

I wish that I could be an average girl. You know, the kind that doesn’t help run the mafia or is the baby sister to its kingpin. The one who can go shopping on the weekends, or be invited to a party without watching the door and analyzing escape routes because someone’s running a job.

I wish that I could be me. No Delphi, just Y/N.

Evan gives me a smile from across the pulsing club, happy to see another job running smoothly, and it’s like a punch in the gut. Because even if I could leave this life, I can’t betray my ‘brother’—my family and all that I have left to in this world. We made a promise when Pop’s left—we go together, no matter where it may be.

There’s a tug in the back of my head, a familiar hum beneath the pounding of the club’s pulsing beat.  _Someone’s coming._  Probably just a rival, looking to bust another one of our ops to boost their own profits, yet they always forget about me.

I hop over the railing and slip against the wall to Evan’s direct line of sight. His green eyes shift to me ever so slightly and watch my rushed movements over the shoulder of whatever stranger he’s dealing with tonight. My gloved fingers tap my wrist and continue through a flurry of coded movements to relay the message.  _Exit 3 now. Close call._

He offers me a barely perceptible nod, and I allow a ghost of a smile to dance across my features. Poor guys have no idea what they’re getting left behind to face. It sends a small pang of guilt through my chest, but the feeling is quickly left behind me in the twisting crowd. They chose this life; it’s bound to catch up to them eventually.

Although, as I slip out the back into the alley, I can’t help but wonder if one day it will catch up to us too. It’s not as if we aren’t just as guilty. Evan helps broker the biggest deals—everything from guns to drugs to art and everything in between. Of course, he always keeps the details hidden; I’m just not stupid enough to believe he’s dealing in rainbows and happiness.

The New York bites down through my jacket as I weave through streets, false turns, and narrow alleyways to the safe house. My thoughts sour like the dumpster’s trash the longer I walk. With each step another reason for me to hate myself pops up.

_Step_. I aide criminals every day.

_Step_. I  _help_  more weapons and illegal items to hit the streets.

_Step_. People die because of it.

_Step_. Not once have I had the courage to say ‘no.’

_Step_. I keep doing it despite knowing its wrong.

_Step._  I’ve never tried to stop Evan.

_Step._  Evan’s never asked me stop.

_Step_. And I’ve never said anything.

Tears brim in my eyes as I try to push away the tsunami of self-loathing that are building up in my chest. It’s utterly pointless though, there’s no fighting it. You can’t just will this stuff away. The only way I could fix it would be correct my mistakes, which I don’t see myself getting the courage to do anytime soon.

The hum of danger slowly builds as I cross into another alleyway. It’s a nagging in my head and chest that screams at me to run—to get out as fast as I can, but something else—something stronger whispers for me to wait. I don’t recognize the feeling, and the unfamiliar, gentle whisper seems to fight against the hum until it feels like a war raging inside my skull.

Run.  _Stay._  Run, you freaking idiot.  _Stay, this is what you’ve searched for_.

“Shut up!” I scream at the sounds in my head as I knead my palms against my eyes. It sends a flurry of lights and colors through the blackness and a comforting kind of pain. My hands shake as I continue to try to calm the pounding, to gain a moment of peace.

I’m so wrapped up I don’t notice the knife at my throat until its too late. The blade sends a shiver through me as the brute presses it further into my neck and whispers, “Can’t see everything, huh, Delphi?”

My stomach twists at the name. Evan has always made sure I remained unidentifiable; it’s part of why I stay. He keeps us invisible so that  _they_  will never find us again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I whisper fearfully and silently pray to make it through this. Although, a part of me has been expecting it to end like this. Everyone always says the only way out of the business is in handcuffs or a body bag.

Still, I try my hand at a proper lie. “Please, you have the wrong person.” My voice and body shake in terror. Especially when the man’s exposed wrist brushes against my neck and the flashes come.

Images splice together of the possible outcomes of this scenario. One with me lying in a pool of my own blood, and the other—harder to decipher with the thick haze over it—the man trapped against the alley wall with some sort of unknown restraint.

A chuckle escapes the man as he presses the blade deep enough to break the first layer of skin. “Oh, I’m certain I’ve got you, Delphi. You see, I went to jail cause of you, and while I was inside, I asked around.” A bitter laugh escapes him as he releases me long enough to slam me against the bricks so that his green eyes can mock me as he continues. “Turns out, there are some people looking for you and your friend. Quite a pretty penny for you two.”

Everything goes dark and cold in that split second. My heart drops to the filthy concrete and stops beating in terror. “Who?”

“You know who, darling.” He teases and rests the blade on the dip between my collarbones. “Only thing is—they didn’t specify how they wanted you. So I’m gonna assume they don’t mind if I take my pound of flesh before handing you over to them.”

Tears brim in my eyes.  _This is it_ , I think to myself,  _this is how I die. Because there’s no way I’m ever going back to that place_. My voice is steady and resigned as I spit in his face and tell him, “Go ahead then. Do you worst, but know that your future is pretty bleak too.”

“Why, you little bi—” He shouts and moves the knife to plunge it into my gut, and I screw my eyes shut to be sure I won’t have to witness his sick joy as I die. But something—or better said someone—stops him. Instead, there’s a searing pain across my abdomen as the man shouts.

“You know, that’s not how you treat a lady.” A voice calls, and I turn toward the source to find a familiar figure clad in red and blue spandex. He gives a quick tug on the webs, which sends the thug to the ground. “Didn’t your mother teach your manners?”

Spiderman just shakes his head and webs the guy’s mouth shut before securing him to the alley wall. “Now, wait here for the cops to come.” He jokes, but the laughter fades from his voice when he notices me.

I follow his gaze curiously to find a wide, shallow gash across my stomach. “Well, that’s gonna need stitches.” I mumble to myself, not quite feeling it through the adrenaline and shock. Spiderman watches me, white lenses squinting in what I believe to be disbelief. “Looks like your gonna need some too.” I tell him and motion to an injury on his shoulder. “Come on, Spandex. I know a place to patch ourselves up.”

He watches me as I stumble to the mouth of the alleyway with a hand clamped on my stomach and the other using the wall for support. “You’re not going to make it far like that.” His voice is soft and kind as he loops my arm over his neck and picks me up with ease. “Not by yourself at least.”

“Who said I was expecting to go alone?” I tease through the haze of the encroaching pain. The fabric of his mask stretches ever so slightly as I assume he smiles. “There’s a clinic about five blocks—” I pause for a second and scramble to remember exactly  _where_  I am, “—that way.”

…

I can feel him watching me as I finish bandaging myself up, wincing every time I move at a certain angle. “Here,” He sighs, “let me help you.”

My head rests against Spiderman’s chest as he follows my directions to the clinic. “Hold on, I’ve got a key.” I tell him as I squirm out of his grip and search through my pockets for the spare key that I ‘borrowed’ during one of my shifts. The door sticks like always, and I wince at the extra pain that comes as I wedge it open. “Come on, I’ll get you patched up.”

I can feel his eyes on me as he follows me inside. “Shouldn’t you be taking care of yourself first? Mine isn’t that bad compared to yours.” He tries to argue as I gather the supplies. I make a point to ignore him as I shove him toward the table and press a disinfectant-soaked gauze to the wound. “Hey! A little warning would be nice.” He cries at the contact of it, and I have to bite back a chuckle.

“I didn’t realize the famous Spiderman was such a baby.” I tease as I continue. “This isn’t gonna feel good. I have to take the bullet out, which is  _really_ gonna hurt. So I suggest you brace yourself.”

He nods and wraps his fingers around the edge of the table. The fog in my head lingers as I go through the routine motions of patching him up. It’s become a bit of second nature to me. After all those years in the Institute, where they treated us like monsters and animals, and the times Evan’s plans went south, I’ve learned how to patch up a wound.

“How are you so good at this?” The boy in front of me questions, and I merely shrug. His voice softens and white lenses shrink as he watches me. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding pretty badly.”

“Don’t worry, I’m almost done. Then you’ll get your chance to play doctor. And to answer your question, I’ve gotten used to it.” I tell him as I wrap his shoulder tightly. The moment I finish, he slides off and gently places me in his spot. “Okay, let’s see how bad it is.” I mumble to myself as I lift my shirt up, which immediately causes Spiderman to look away in apparent embarrassment. Not that I can bring myself to care at the moment.

“Huh, he barely broke the skin.” I finally look up to see Spiderman’s eyes darting anywhere else but me. It makes me chuckle a little bit to see him like this. “Pass me the disinfectant and some bandages, please?”

“Y-yeah, sure thing.” He replies as he scrambles for the items. I cringe when his ivory lenses widen when he notices the scars that litter my shoulders, abdomen, and back. “How—how did those happen?”

“Trust me. You really don’t want to know.” I whisper with a wince as I clean out the shallow wound. Spiderman watches for a moment before he takes the bandages and gauze from my hands. “What are you—?” I don’t get the chance to finish before he picks up before I left off.

“You’re  _really_  not gonna tell me. Are you?” He pauses and waits to see if I’ll answer him, but when I remain silent, he continues. “I mean, you can’t blame me for being curious. Most pretty, normal teenage girls aren’t covered in scars like that.’

“Who said  _anything_  about ‘normal?’” I retort as he finishes wrapping the bandages, always pausing at the round scars on my abdomen. My eyes dart away to a random poster before the memory of their origin takes hold. “For all you know, I could be a criminal.”

A piece of my brain screams at me to shut up before he can figure me out, but the same gentle voice from before urges me on—to finally put a stop to this fake life.

Spiderman shakes his head with an uncomfortable chuckle. “You don’t exactly  _seem_  like a criminal.” He pauses, ivory lenses meeting my eyes as he tilts his head and asks, “Wait—-are you?”

I move my gaze away from him as I gently slide off the table and move to the employee lockers in search of a shirt to replace my blood-stained one. My voice is regretful as I finally give him an answer. “I suppose I am—in a way. Aiding and abetting is a crime, right?”

Spiderman stiffens, obviously on high alert now, but there’s something still tender about him as he watches me. And I wonder if he knows that I want out—for good. “What do you mean?”

I stay silent for a moment as I rummage through my coworker's locker and pull out a simple graphic tee she keeps for emergencies or accidents. “I mean, I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. I’ve protected someone for years now—someone who works and helps most of the criminal underbelly of New York run smoothly.

“I’ve helped him avoid trouble, watched the deals, and said nothing for three years. I’ve lied to myself that it was for good reasons, that he was only hurting the people that hurt us, and that I was right to help him because once he helped me.” I pause and keep looking at the floor. “You probably know of him—and me.”

“Who is he?” He asks immediately but pauses for a moment in consideration as he steps closer. “And why are you telling me all this?”

Tears brim in my eyes as I fight the arguing voices in my head to get the words. “Because—I can’t live like this anymore. It hurts too much. I can’t live knowing people are hurt by my silence and that my abilities are used for harm, and I’m  _sick_  of being someone’s weapon again. I spent  _so_  long in a cell--like their pet. When he got us out, I thought I was free. Turns out, I exchanged a cage for a tight leash.”

Spiderman hesitates for a second but reaches out and wipes my tears away with a gloved hand. “Talk to me. Maybe I can help you.”

I bite my lip, unsure if I can actually trust the masked hero. “If I tell you, there’s no going back for me. Either he or they will find me, and I’m good as dead either way. If I tell you, you have to promise to turn me into someone you  _trust_ —someone who won’t try to use me for my abilities.”

“I promise.” He replies after a long moment. “But you have to tell me who you’re running from and who you’ve been working with.”

I sigh as I settle myself back on the table and start my story as Spiderman sits down next to me. “It’s a long story, but I have to start at the beginning for it to make sense.” He nods and waits patiently for me to speak. “I don’t remember much from when I was a kid. All I have are snippets of parents, a few friends, and a dog named ‘Bosco,’ I think.

“Everything beyond that is just ‘the Institute’— that’s what  _they_  called themselves at least. An “Institute for the development and education of gifted individuals” is what they drilled into us for the longest time. It wasn’t until we got out that I found out their real name,  _Hydra_.

“They’re the reason I got the scars. I was only a kid when I realized what I could do, and they took no time to use me for them. They called me ‘the Oracle;’” I pause and look up to make sure he’s still with me. He tilts his head, slightly puzzled. “I can tell when something bad is going to happen. It’s like this buzzing in my head whenever danger is coming, and if I touch someone, I can see possible futures—outcomes of what  _may_  happen to them, unless the event is set. When Hydra found out, they would bring me agents before a mission or smuggle me into key events. I had to tell them  _everything_. Because when I didn’t cooperate,” I lift my shirt and show the scars to elaborate for me, “they would use the cattle prod, hit me, and toss me in a cell until I learned to behave again.

“It’s how I met  _him_ , Evan.” I twist the gloves around my fingers as I struggle to continue through the tears and emotions of  _finally_  telling someone my story. “He was different like me—being used for his gifts and punished when he rebelled. We used to talk through the grate to keep each other company, to keep each other going.

“I was only twelve when we escaped. Evan broke his way into my cell, picked me up, and put a blanket over my head as he carried me out. It’s mostly a blur, but I remember Evan holding onto me so tightly like he was gonna lose me any moment. We barely made it out alive, even with my abilities. But we ran, and we kept going until we  _knew_  no one could hurt us again.

“Evan used his gifts of persuasion to earn himself a job for a crime syndicate. I thought nothing of it at first except he was trying to find a way to support us. But then he came into my room one night and told me to come with him. He needed someone to have his back. What he really wanted was the Oracle to protect him. So I did.”

“Because you felt like you owed him.” Spiderman finishes for me, and I nod. “You don’t owe him anything anymore,—” His voice drops off as he’s not sure what to call me.

“Y/N. My name’s Y/N.” I tell him with a soft smile. “But you probably know Evan and I by different names.”

“Which are?”

“Evan is known simply as ‘the Ghost.’” Spiderman’s lenses widen in shock.

“Does that mean you’re—?”

“The infamous Delphi?” I confirm with a bitter laugh. “Yep, that would be me. I always hated that name, but Evan convinced me it would be a way to mock the name they called me all those years. Although, I’m pretty sure he just wanted a cool name to use when he bragged.”

“I thought you were just a myth. It’s why Evan got called ‘the Ghost,’ because he’s never been caught. I’ve heard other people talk about you like you’re a good luck charm.” Spiderman says, and I nod in shame. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t be treated like someone’s tool; you’re a human being.”

“You’re the first person who’s ever said that to me,” I whisper through the tears and barely think as I pull him into a hug. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t have to thank me.” He whispers as he hugs me back. “C’mon, I think I know a way to help you. Just give me a minute to make a call.”

I nod and pull my knees up to my chest. The room suddenly feels so much colder, and the voices in my head continue to scream at each other. One tells me to run now before he can turn me in, and I get locked up again. The other is kinder and reminds me that I needed to get out of Evan’s grasp eventually. Spiderman is my best bet to doing that.

“Okay, I called Mr. Stark; he’ll help you get somewhere safe.” As if he can sense my lingering apprehension, he steps closer and pulls his mask off so our eyes can meet. “Look, I promise you, everything’s going to be okay, Y/N. You have my word; I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you’re okay.” I nod and uncurl myself from the tight ball as I slip my gloved hand into his. “Alright, let’s go meet Mr. Stark.”

…

My whole body shakes with nerves as we walk into the tower. Peter, as he introduced himself on the way over, keeps his hand in mine and reminds me it’s gonna be okay. “Mr. Stark?” He calls as we exit the elevator and enter the empty penthouse.

“Kid,” A voice calls as he rounds the corner. Tony Stark’s eyes lock on me the moment he comes into view. “who’s your friend?”

Peter begins to introduce me and talk to Tony about my situation, but I can only halfway listen. There’s a small but growing hum that starts to emerge and take over everything around me. It sends a panic flooding through my veins as I tug on Peter’s arm. “Something’s wrong,” I whisper to him and start to shake even more. “Something’s gonna happen.”

“What? No, Y/N, you’re safe now. Mr. Stark is gonna help you.” He tells me as he looks between Tony and I. But the look in Tony’s eyes only confirms my fear. Peter seems to notice it too. “M—Mr. Stark?”

“I need you to step away from her, Peter.” He tells the boy as he takes a step forward. Peter steps between Mr. Stark and me and extends his arm in a protective manner to me. “She’s dangerous, kid.”

“No, she’s not. I promised her you would help. I—” Peter argues, but he’s quickly cut off by my scream. A pair of arms wrap around my waist and lift me off my feet. “Y/N!”

“Peter!” I scream and fight the men holding onto my arms. “No, please, no.” Tears stream down my face as I watch him yell and fight against Tony’s hold as they drag me away.

His voice echoes in my ears as they tie my hands behind my back. “No, Mr. Stark! I promised her. Y/N! Y/N!” My heart lurches in my chest as the doors close, officially sealing me off from Peter, whose last image is of fighting Tony with tears streaming down his face. It’s the last thing I see before the men place a blind over my head and block everything out.


	19. no longer lost pt.1 {j.f.}

The forest hums quietly with the typical bird chirps and stirs of life. It reminds me ever so slightly of  _home_. Except the forests of England have many differences from the amazonian jungle, there's a tentative resemblance that makes me feel better on homesick days.

My footfalls barely register against the thunderous steps of my beau. Jack always walks like an elephant when something is on his mind. It's something that I learned the day we met all those months ago.

_\-- 6 months ago --_

_I slip through the trees as I wait for my prey to step into the small gap between the trunks. It's a rare comfort in this foreign world of 'civilized' life, to still be able to gather and provide for myself._

_Of course, if Clara knew, she would remind me of the butcher shop that's perfectly nestled in the center of town. But old habits die hard. Not to mention, the Amazon is forever a part of my being after so many years._

_I notch the arrow and pull it taught. My heart calms down and evens out with my breath. The deer dips its head down to nibble at some grass, and once it raises its head--I release._

_Although, the arrow doesn't find its mark. Because at that same moment, a gunshot echoes through the forest like thunder. The deer bolts, now wounded and scared, as I notch another arrow and take a second shot._

_It settles with a thunk through the heart. I bite my lip and painfully watch as it takes another few stumbling meters before falling to the ground._

_Twigs snap against my cloak as I rush to the creature's side. Tears spill out of my eyes and smear the markings of my tribe I replicated as part of the ritual of the hunt. "Thank you for your sacrifice. May you find peace and rest." I whisper and feel the heartbeat stutter and give out._

_Footsteps pound from behind me as I complete the rest of the tradition. The stranger stops beside me, clearly unsure of what to do or how to react. But once I finish, I answer the question for him._

_"Do you have no shame?" I shout as the answer bubbles in my chest. The young man watches me with wide brown eyes and a blush coating his cheeks when he notices my_ limited _attire. "Everyone here has felt the right to lecture me about 'civilized' culture, but I don't see it. There is nothing civilized about this kind of slaughter._

_"The tribes I knew and life I lived may have been different, but at least we knew to respect life enough to end it quickly and peacefully. They taught to respect Death, not pretend as though we owned and ruled it." I catch my breath, chest still heaving in fury. "If this is civilized, I would much rather have the Amazonian barbarity any day."_

_The brown eyed boy watches me with a slack jaw as I untie the coil of rope from my waist and prepare to drag the deer out. "Who--who are you?" He finally stutters after I've made it a few steps._

_I lift my chin and try to fight back the falter that always happens. "Y/N L/N." It's not my real name. No one knows what that is. I lost it and my parents to the jungle fever as a toddler. This one was given to me by the others in the group, pieced together from past lives or books. "My name is Y/N L/N."_

_He nods, still in some sort of daze as he speaks. "Jack Fawcett."_

_"Well," I retort as I secure the ropes around myself again, "good day, Mr. Fawcett."_

Present

A laugh escapes me at the memory of his terrified expression and shock at my behavior. We've certainly come a long way since then. Most of which can be credited to my attempts to follow 'civilized' customs of being neighborly, which led to our second meeting and my apology.

Jack turns to me curiously at the sound of my laughter, but there's still a glaze of thought over his amber eyes. "What's so funny?" He questions and shifts the picnic basket so he can take my hand in his.

I happily lace our fingers together and press closer to him as we walk into the field. "Just thinking about how we met." The mention of the memory causes a smile to tug at the corners of his lips. Still, there's clearly something on his mind. "You've been quiet today. Tell me your thoughts?"

His fingers tap against my hand like they always do when he's nervous. But he forces a smile across his face as we cross the open field. "It's nothing, my love. Let's just enjoy our picnic."

I drop the subject, but the curiosity and worry still linger. Even as we settle ourselves beneath the tree that nearly all of our special moments have happened at. It's become our tree. The special spot we love and our corner of the world where no one can find us. It's where we shared our first kiss, where we first said 'I love you,' and where we always know to find the other on a bad day.

We settle the blanket down across the grass. I watch Jack in wonder as he puts everything in its place like always. When I left the Amazon with Clara and her husband, I never expected to find much. The main reason I agreed to come was to understand my roots, where my parents came from before they broke ties and settled in with the tribes.

Instead, I found happiness, love, and family. Most of which are exclusively Jack. He's become everything to me these past few months, and I love him for it. For the little and big things, like always making sure I understand that though I may live alone in a guest house, I'll always have him and a place to go.

Jack catches me staring, and his gorgeous chocolate eyes glimmer in delight as the blush rises to my cheeks. "You were doing it again, darling." He chuckles and leans closer to me

"Doing what?" I feign naivety and innocence as always. "Admiring the forest?" Jack rolls his eyes and chuckles. Still, he closes the distance and presses a chaste kiss to my lips. I kiss him back with a smile before pulling away. "So, what did you bring for today?" I question and search for whatever book Jack decided to bring.

"No!" He shouts and tears it from my hands in a panic. "I mean, not yet. We should probably eat first."

I nod but watch him curiously. The whole time we eat and talk, Jack keeps touching the book to make sure it's there. This is the first time I've ever seen him this flustered. It makes me smile and lean into him as we enjoy the sunny afternoon.

The same moment we finish our little meal, I look up at him through my eyelashes with a smirk. "Okay, now give me the book. I need to practice." Yet another piece of our tradition is Jack teaching me how to read and write. Each time we do this, he brings along a book to help me practice. Of course, I practice on my own time, but it's always more fun when he's here.

His nervous smile returns to his features, and he wraps his arms around me and has me lean against his chest. All the while, he keeps an iron grip on the book. "This one is a little different today." He whispers right next to my ear, and I relish the feeling of his arms around me and the sound of his voice.

Jack's fingers interlace with my own as he flips the book open with his other hand. Across the pages are curves and lines of delicate black ink. It's unmistakably his handwriting--neat but rushed. The pages are littered with his thoughts and memories, but his fingers keep turning until it reaches a nearly blank spread. "Okay, here we go."

His breath fans against my neck, momentarily distracting me and making it very difficult to read. It's the only downside of being near him. He's intoxicating. My head swims, and I have to force myself to make sense of the scribbles instead of allowing Jack to distract me. "Wait, that's my name." I mumble and point to the first line.

Jack hums in confirmation, and I know he's waiting for me to continue. "Y/N," I speak with assurance before the onslaught of stuttering, "well--will you?" I follow the vibrations from Jack as insight on what to fix as I translate the last of it. "Marry me?"

I untangle myself from Jack and turn back to him to see if this is some sort of joke. "Y/N, will you marry me?" My voice is shaky as I wait for him to confirm what I think I read. There's a mix of fear and excitement in his eyes. His fingers tremble as he fumbles with something in his jacket pocket.

Everything spins as Jack pushes himself forward, a tentative smile on his face and an object in his hand. "Y/N, I know we've only known each other for six months, and everyone will say this is crazy. But I love you. I never thought I would understand this kind of love or feel for someone so deeply. Until I got to know you. You're crazy and wild, but you're beautiful and kind. It would be my honor if you would agree to marry me; 'cause I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

My hands cup my mouth as he offers up a simple silver band, which likely cost him a month's worth of wages, and so much more than I could ever deserve. Tears build in my eyes as I unthinkingly launch myself into his arms. "Is that a yes?"

I nod and mumble a confirmation as I press our lips together. Everything is in that kiss, and his calloused fingers cup my face with a tenderness only he could show. "Yes, I'll marry you, Jack. I'd happily marry you a hundred times."

The two of us can't help but smile, laugh, and kiss as we relish in the new feeling of being engaged. This is the happiest I can ever recall feeling. "We have to tell your family!" I shout after nearly an hour of enjoyment. Jack just laughs and pulls me back down to him for another lingering kiss.

"I know. I just wanted to enjoy it being our secret for a moment." He mumbles against my lips, and I feel a surge of giddiness at the comment. "I'm honestly surprised you said 'yes.'"

My jaw drops at the comment. "What? Were you afraid we amazonian women aren't fit for marriage?" I tease and bump him with my shoulder. "You forget marriage is a prized custom in my tribe. Of course, we won't do all the traditions, just the ones we can manage. Which reminds me, I'll have to start working on which tattoo to give you." I mumble the last part to myself, but it causes Jack's head to snap up and eyes widen in dismay.

"I have to get a tattoo?!" He shouts incredulously, but I'm too wrapped up in my own thoughts to pay him any mind.

...

My mind is lost in euphoria and nostalgia as we walk back hand in hand. Jack rambles and discusses a multitude of topics that sail past my head. All I can focus on is him. My wondrous Englishman with the touch of an amazon in his soul.

No matter how much he wishes otherwise, it's a quality he inherited from his father. Deep down he has the same adventuring, untameable soul as myself. It's what made me initially fall in love with him.

His house is quiet when we finally return, and the absence of noise and bustling from his siblings is quite odd. Jack's expression mirrors my own confusion.

We set aside the picnic basket and search through the house for anyone to share our good news with. Although, the announcement and joy dies on our lips when we find his mother and father seated at the table looking somber.

"Jack, Y/N," his mother smiles through teary eyes, "have a seat. There's some things we need to discuss."

Jack's calloused fingertips tap against my hand as we settle into the two empty chairs. He offers me an encouraging smile and doesn't look away as he speaks. "We actually had some news too."

His parents pause and lean forward ever so slightly. I give Jack a timid nod and intertwine our fingers again. A smile breaks across his face as he turns toward his parents and declares, "We're engaged."

Mrs. Fawcett clamps a hand over her mouth as tears freely stream down her face. Still, there's a barrier to her happiness. It's clearly visible in her eyes as she turns toward her husband and dismisses herself.

Worry floods my body as she removes herself from the room, barely containing a sob. Mr. Fawcett turns to us with a soft, sympathetic smile. "Jack, Y/N, I'm sorry to give you this news on the tailcoats of a happy occasion, but--" he pauses and takes a deep breath, "I'm continuing my search for Z."

My stomach knots at the mention of the lost city that has become Mr. Fawcett's white whale. It's a point of contention for Jack. He lost so much time with his father because of the fabled city.

I turn to Jack when his hand tightens around mine. Not in anger, but fear. Because we both know the promise he made before we met, and also the secret we've hidden from his father.

The secret that I know the location of Z.

But if we were ever to tell Mr. Fawcett, he would be lost forever. It was already difficult enough for him to return both times before. So Jack begged me to never mention it.

Although, our shock and fear only heightens with the next comment. "And I want you to come with me, Jack."


	20. no longer lost pt.2

My petticoats swirl around my legs as I pace beneath our tree. I unconsciously chew my nails down to raw nubs as my thoughts and heart race. Jack's footsteps pound against the dew covered grass as he races to finally catch up with me.

"Marry me." He manages between heavy breaths. "Today."

I pause in my pacing. My eyes instinctively search his for any hesitation or doubt. "I thought you wanted a real wedding?" I question. After all, we only got engaged this afternoon.

He steps forwards and cups my cheek in his hand. "I don't care about a wedding. All I want is the same thing as before-- to spend my life with you."

"Then let me convince him to let me come with you." I argue in dismay. "Marry me and let me come with you." My fingers cover his as I fight back tears. "Don't put me through watching you to leave.  _Please_ , don't let me lose you too. Because we both know that if you go--there's no coming back--not from Z."

Tears build in his brown eyes as he rests his forehead against mind. "You know he'll never listen. He believes it's no journey for a woman. Not to mention, the crew would likely see you as a frivolous addition or burden to worry about. But you know I would take you if I could."

A devious, deceitful idea enters my mind, and I press my lips to his for a long moment. "Then I won't go as a  _woman_." I retort and hush him before he can interrupt. "I'll go as my brother."

"You don't  _have_  a brother." Jack whispers, clearly confused.

"Neither the crew nor your father doesn't know that." My voice is soft and pleading as I hold onto his wrists. " _He_  may not know it, but you  _need_  me to make it to Z. So let me speak to him, and no matter what  _let me join you_."

Jack shakes his head, and the corners of his lips twitch upward into a smile. "There's no stopping you is there?"

I let out a small laugh. "No, there's not, but what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to marry you. Right now." He tells me with a growing grin. A laugh escapes my lips as he pulls me along through the field and toward the preacher's house. It's normally a ten minute walk, but at our current run, we'll probably reach it fairly soon.

The poor man is half asleep as he opens up his door. "Can I help you, Mr. Fawcett, Miss L/N?" His looks between us two, clearly trying to figure out why we're knocking on his door at such a late hour.

"We'd like for you to marry us." Jack tells him with a beaming smile, and my heart swells at the words. "We know it's late and unexpected, but we don't to wait. Not another moment longer."

...

_One Week before Departure_

"Are you still sure about this?" Jack questions as he watches me from the bed. I glance at him through the mirror and try my best to hide the wave of uncertainty that washes through me from the weight of the scissors in my hand. "You don't have to do this."

"And what else am I to do?" I question in slight anger. "Am I supposed to sit back and worry? To wait patiently for a husband that I know may never return? To know that with every passing day I could be by your side instead of alone and terrified?" The determination settles into my bones as I pull down a strand of hair. "No, I'm absolutely sure about this."

My hands shake ever so slightly as I raise the scissors and cut. The long lock of hair falls drifts into my lap. It's the first step, and it means there's no turning back now. Yet, I have to keep cutting to fight back the emotions and tears.

With every snip, I recall another piece of my life that falls away with it.

 _Snip_. The Fawcett family, who have taken me in as their own.

 _Snip_. Moira, my mentor and the woman who allowed me to discover a whole new life.

 _Snip_. Another friend abandoned.

 _Snip._  Another luxury lost.

 _Snip._  One step closer to home.

I barely notice the tears streaming down my face or the tremor of my hands until Jack's fingers gently grasp my wrist. He watches me with the same look of respect and love he has for so long, but this time, there's a glaze of bitter understanding. We both know what we're agreeing to leave behind, to risk never returning to, and the pain that echoes in both of our chests.

He sets the shears aside and rests a calloused palm on my cheek. I instinctively lean into the touch and rest my hand atop his own. "Have I told you how much I love you, Mrs. Fawcett?" Jack whispers softly as he swipes the tears away with his thumb, a soft smile across his features at the ability to call me his wife. "You are the bravest, most exceptional woman I have ever known. You leave me in awe every day, and I don't think I could truly do this without you."

"Which is why you won't have to." I tell him and brush away the few tears that escape his eyes. "Not truly."

He nods and presses a kiss to my lips. "I think that may be the most difficult part of this--having to pretend it's not you."

It's the main concern both of us had. The slightest  _hint_  that I am truly a woman on an exploration to the Amazon could ruin everything. Most of the crew is wary enough as is--and rightly so. There's many dangers in the jungle, and if they were to believe they had a woman to fret over too, it could be disastrous.

Not to mention, Jack and I must be utterly unattached. He must pretend to think of me as nothing more than an estranged brother to his new wife. While I, on the other hand, must embody an entirely different person.

Still, it will be worth it. I will return to the place I knew as home through most of my life, and I will be able to know Jack is safe, to be by his side, and to help him and his father find the 'fabled' city that has caused so much obsession for them.

I watch Jack as he carefully and dutifully cuts my hair down. It's a strange transformation, but the simple act creates someone entirely different. With the rest of the preparations, there's almost no way anyone beside Jack would recognize me.

It's a strange feeling to become someone entirely beyond yourself, but it will be worth every ounce of effort in the end. "Well, darling, I have to say you look quite dashing as your fictional brother." Jack teases with a smirk.

A laugh escapes my lips as I roll my eyes and stand up to be at eye level with him. "Good to know. Hopefully you don't mind kissing me while I look like this. Because, we only have so much time together before we lose our chance." I tell him as I lay my palms against his chest. "We have to make the most of it."

"I don't care what you look like, Y/N. All I care about is that it's  _you_." He retorts and kisses me with every ounce of love and emotion he can muster.

"I love you, Jack Fawcett, terrible romantic lines and all." His chuckle vibrates through me, and I relish the feeling of being wrapped in the arms of my love before everything will change.


	21. no longer lost pt.3

_about a year and half later_

The night is unusually quiet. Mostly because today we parted ways with the rest of the crew, leaving Percy, Jack, and I to continue on alone. I have to remind myself that it's safer this way--even if it is a little nerve wracking. Because now, we're passing the hazy line of 'safety,' which is entirely relative in the Amazon. The tribes that live this deeply into the jungle are more hostile, cautious, and wary of outsiders.

I just hope that we'll be lucky enough to encounter my tribe or one I knew. Even after all the time that has passed, I know they would remember me. There's no way we could have forgotten each other with the familial bond that developed over so many years.

Especially now that the 'Elliot' facade is less necessary, it will be easier for them to recognize me and to feel comfortable. Still, Jack watches me from across the fire, and I can practically hear the unspoken question ringing in my head.  _Are you sure?_

Percy, Jack's father, lets out a small chuckle, which causes both Jack and I to look towards him curiously. "You two are quite lucky the crew was so oblivious."

Jack's eyes widen a fraction in shock, but I'm not remotely surprised. Percy Fawcett is a clever man--a quality he passed on to his son. It was only a matter of time before he solved the puzzle; and I could feel his suspicions growing already. What  _does_  surprise me, is the lack of anger and attempts to send me back.

"How did you know?" I question, immensely glad to use my natural voice again.

Percy meets my eyes with a soft grin. "I'll admit, it took me a while, but when Jack got sick, I realized something was different."

A shiver passes through me at the memory. Jack contracted a fever a few weeks back. He was pale, trembling, and barely holding on. It was the most terrifying experience of my whole life, to think that I might lose him to the same illness that claimed my parents and most of their party.

My heart was breaking, and I admit to being quite reckless and forgetful about my secret while mending Jack's health. Whenever the crew was asleep, I stayed awake with him and did everything I could to comfort him. Everyone seemed worry about me too; I wouldn't sleep or eat, too afraid that if I so much as glanced away from him, he would be lost forever.

"I realized the way you worried for him was much too familiar and much too tender." Percy lets out a small sigh and glances to his son. "After that, I started to have my suspicions. It wasn't hard to figure out. Especially because you two instinctively look to each other in dangerous situation."

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips at the information. "Well, I suppose this makes the rest of the journey easier." I comment to break the thickening silence and move to sit next to Jack. He and Percy anxiously wait for me to continue and watch patiently as I restore my wedding band to its rightful place. "It will be easier for me to interact with the tribes as myself instead of a stranger. If we're lucky, we may just cross paths with someone who knew me or another member of the original party."

My fingers interlace with Jack's for the first time in months, and both of us visibly relax from the comfort of the contact. I tap my fingers against his hand as I nervously meet Percy's eye and continue. "And as unlikely as it may seem, please, know that we didn't want to lie to you, Mr. Fawcett. It's just--" The words slip away from me before I can finish.

Luckily, Jack finds some of his own. "We needed her with us, Father, but I knew you and the rest of the men would have  _apprehensions_  about her presence." He sighs and traces his thumb across my knuckles. "But without her, we wouldn't have made it this far-- _I_  wouldn't have made it this far."

Percy nods--all emotion voice from his face. "I understand your reasons, even if I disagree with the method. You've been quite a help to us, Y/N, but you  _are_  to continue with us I have to know I can trust you--completely."

My hand grips Jack's as I look to him and silently question our agreement. His eyes are still full of concern and love, but this time, there's a hint of determination present as he gives me a slight nod.

"I understand, sir, which is why you ought to know--" Percy leans forward slightly, anxious to hear my next words. "I believe I know where to find Z. From what you said, I think you're searching where I grew up."

Everything goes silent for a moment, only the sounds of the jungle and fire disrupt the hush. My whole body shakes as I nervously wait for something--anything to be said.

After what feels like an eternity--Percy's laughter echoes around us. A small squeak escapes me as my father-in-law tugs me to my feet and wraps me in a tight hug before moving on to his son. "I  _knew_  it was real!"

Percy seems completely unaware of my apprehension and lack of joy for a long moment until the excitement settles like rippled water, and I suddenly feel like curling in on myself as I watch him rejoice over the news—entirely unaware of the dangers his dream contains. "Rest up, everyone. I'm sure we'll have a long day tomorrow." He pauses and looks towards me, finally noticing my obvious worry. "And we can discuss more about it in the morning."

The way he speaks the words is as if he believes it will settle the matter and everyone's nerves entirely. But I can't help but keep worrying as him and Jack settle in. Instead, I remain awake, much to Jack's dismay, and stare at the fire wondering if we'll make it through this alive.

I watch as Jack turns restlessly in his sleep, as he often has these many months of this journey. He always reminds me how he's calmer when I'm by his side, but sleep is the last thing on my mind at the moment. My mind is filled with possibilities, and each one where I lose Jack makes me feel more and more ill. The mere thought of a world without Jack is unbearable.

The thoughts swirl and crackle in my head like the fire in front of me, and I force myself to smother them out as I lay down next to my husband. Even in his sleep, he seems to sense my presence. Slowly, his breathing evens, limbs calm, and heartbeat steadies as I bury my face in his chest. I can't hold back the small chuckle that escapes me as his arms hold me like a vice. "I love you, Jack Fawcett. Both now and forever."

...

We've been trekking closer every day, and the knot in my stomach tells me we're nearly there. It feels like we've crossed so much distance in such a short amount of time—something about it seems so wrong.

There's an unsettling feeling in my bones as we cross through a clearing. It grows with every step. My hands shake and become coated in a layer of sweat.  _Something is definitely wrong_.

I open my mouth to voice my concerns, but there's no time for a sound to leave my mouth before a group of 'Indians,' as Percy refers to them, circle around us with spears raised. Jack is immediately by my side with worry in his eyes as he takes my hand. He looks at me with a curious apprehension, as if to silently ask if I know them, but I have no idea. So I shake my head in reply, entirely unsure if this is my former tribe or not.

The sun sets as they lead us down the torchlit pathway towards the waiting tribe leaders. We are forced to our knees in front of them. My heart lurches in my chest as I dare to peek around and find no recognition or familiar faces.

I listen as the chief, shaman, and other important figure whisper back and forth to each other. Most of their dialect is familiar, but it's all hazy in my head as I try to translate it. All I can catch is as they discuss us and our souls, but the rest is a mystery to me.

Jack drops his head, his voice barely a whisper and breaking as he says. "We're going to die here." I watch him sadly, my own heart breaking as I can't reassure him that the words aren't true. "I'm so sorry, my love. I should have listened to you." He tells me with tears building.

I shake my head and fight back my own tears. "There was no way to know this would happen. It is no one's fault. I need you to understand that. Okay?" My voice trembles as a few of the warriors bring us some sort of liquid to drink. "I love you, Jack Fawcett. Both now and forever."

"Now and forever." He repeats with a bittersweet smile as they force us to drink.

It's bitter on my tongue, and I want nothing more than to vomit at the taste of it. Still, they force so much of it on me, I have no choice but to drink the concoction. The chief nods and says something else to the people of his clan, but it becomes all fuzzy at the edges.

I lock eyes with Jack, who seems to be feeling the same sudden rush of exhaustion I am. We both keep our gaze locked on each other. At least if we die, it was together with each other as the last face we would see. I do my best to memorize every curve of his face, the color of his eyes, the way his hair falls, and the minuscule details as the effects take hold.

And the world goes black.


	22. rules of heartbreak pt.1 {t.h.}

_Tom Holland (heartbreaker) AU?_

The usual clamor of our crowded lunch table fills my ears and makes me smile. My cousin, Harrison, is waving his hands around as he recounts a story from last summer. It's a stupid story, but like always when Harrison recounts an event, we all listen with rapt attention.

Our laughter echoes as he finishes, but mine fades out before the rest as an arm drapes over my shoulders. I shove it off and send a glare to the smirking boy beside me—Tom Holland, one of two resident heartbreakers. Myself being the unwilling other. "Not today, Holland."

He sticks out his bottom lip in a childish pout. I can feel him drawing the attention of nearly every girl in the room until they're watching us and wishing to be the one on the receiving end of his attention.

Oh, if only they knew the pain that comes with caring for people like us. "We've gone over this. That face doesn't work on me, babe. If you want me so badly," I drop my voice to a whisper and lean dangerously close to him with a devious smirk, which makes his falter microscopically. "You're gonna have to do a lot better than that."

Harrison chuckles and shakes his head at his best friend and I. "Yeah, Tom. I'm pretty sure my cousin isn't gonna fall for your typical act so easily."

F/N perks up at the new topic and props her chin on her palm as she looks between the two of us. She's always told me that she thinks we would make a cute couple, but I refuse to believe it. Even if she is one of the rare girls immune to Tom's act. "I don't know, Haz. Tom has a certain charm. Plus, I think they would be so adorable together."

Mark, one of my oldest friends—and more recently 'ex,' but on good terms—just shakes his head. "Meh. Y/N's a hard one to win over, and even harder to keep since she knows what she wants. I think you just want to see our heartbreakers together, F/N."

She smiles and shrugs in reply, "Well—it would be cute. The two finding love in each other—"

I immediately cut her off before she can get out another syllable. "Woah. Hold up. First, we're literally right here. Second, what makes you think I'd fall in love at all—much less with him? I mean, did you forget that everyone calls me a 'heartbreaker' because I haven't felt that way about anyone." Which isn't a complete lie, I have nearly felt that way. Still, I've had my heart broken and determined to find exactly who and what I deserved before I let that happen again.

"Yet." F/N adds on with a grin.

O/F/N joins her side as they continue, "If you're so certain, why don't we do an experiment of sorts?" Everyone's attention snaps to them, wondering what they could possibly mean. "We'll make a sort of bet out of it. You and Tom 'date' for a while, like normal couples. Good morning and goodnight texts, spending free time together, holding hands, real dates, and the whole works. Then, whoever falls first loses."

I start to protest, but Tom cuts in. "I'm in. It sounds fun, and I'd love to get the chance to make the Y/N L/N fall for me." He winks at me, and I can only manage a scoff and eye roll. "What, you scared of losing?"

"No, I'm just not willing to waste my time on a pointless game." I retort with a snap and cross my arms. Although, the look of victory on Tom's face makes my blood boil and say, "Plus, we all know Tom would be falling at my feet in no time. It's how it always goes."

"What if we put money on it?" F/N chips in looking more excited than I've seen her since the last house party. "I'll chip in fifty."

I bite my lip and look worriedly at Harrison as the rest of the group each adds money into the prospective pool. It tallies up to a couple hundred, mostly because they want to see how this will play out. Although, none of them know how badly I could use that money.

Harrison just shakes his head ever so slightly. He knows exactly what it would mean if I lost this bet. It would mean I wind up with a broken heart and still stuck in the same situation I am now. But those couple hundred bucks could make a difference, and we both know it.

I watch as he glares at his best friend for a split second before giving me an almost imperceptible nod. My stomach knots in worry and anticipation for what's about to happen. "Fine, but we write the rules. If I'm doing this it's between us, and you guys will get general updates." Everyone seems fine with the idea, and I dare to look over at Tom to find him grinning like a Chesire cat. "Don't be so smug, Holland. The game is just beginning."

...

"Rule 1: no sex. You're definitely not making me on of your conquests, Holland. I'm not that kind of girl." I sigh as I write down the phrase on the piece of notebook paper.

"Fine by me. I have other ways of making you love me." He grins and leans closer to me. "Rule 2: we have to act like a real couple. Call each other pet names, boyfriend, girlfriend, hold hands, and all that jazz."

"Rule 3: we stay exclusive for the entirety of the game." I smirk at him, knowing he is likely flirting with at least three girls right now. "And if you break this rule, you automatically lose."

"What if girls flirt with me?" He questions and rests his head on his hand.

"Tell them you have a girlfriend, and walk away if you have to." I lean forward. "Oh, and Rule 4: no kissing either. It will be more fun that way."

"You sure about that, darling? I've been told I'm a hell of a kisser." He taunts as he scoots closer on the already cramped picnic bench.

"Those girls would tell you anything you wanted to hear." I chuckle. "But if you want to make it more interesting. You can have one kiss now, and the next time one of us kisses the other, it signals the end of the game. So you have to save it for when you've fallen for me."

"Is that so?" He questions as he inches closer. "Well, I'm not one to turn down a kiss from a gorgeous girl."

I shake my head at him and lean in until our lips are millimeters apart, my breath fanning over his lips. "Of course, you wouldn't." I tease as my lips barely brush over his. He ever so slightly tenses at the action, and I repeat the movement to tempt him to break first and close the gap.

His whiskey brown eyes bore into mine as he fights off the temptation to break. I just smile back at him as I rest my hand over his. Every small touch makes both of us a little more uncertain, anxious, and excited about what's to come.

Tom keeps glancing between my eyes and my lips, and I can't help but finally take notice of the freckles that faintly dot his cheeks and the way his nose is slightly crooked from all the times he's broken it. For a second, I think I can see why all the girls fawn over him. He has this undeniable boyish charm to his features when you really look.

But I don't get a chance to think much of it before he finally breaks and pulls me closer by the waist to press his lips against mine. It only feels a little different from the other kisses I've had. Nothing too special, but certainly different. I decide to play it up and move my hands to his hair and gently tug at the curls.

A cute, soft groan escapes him at the action, and I swear he keeps pushing more into the kiss. It's honestly quite adorable, and for a second I think this bet might be easier than I thought. Unless, this is all part of his game. Either way, I'm keeping my guard up around him.

He swipes at my bottom lip as if to ask permission, but I ignore it and tug at his hair one last time before pulling away. And maybe I'm just hearing things, but I thought I heard a small sigh from him at the loss of contact. "Well," I say as I return to my notebook as if nothing happened, "it certainly wasn't the worst kiss I've had."

"Just admit it, darling. That was the best kiss you've ever had. There's no need to be shy." Tom jokes as he scoots even closer to me on the bench so that the entirety of our sides are pressed together.

"Actually, it wasn't." I tell him honestly. "But feel free to admit that it was yours." He just sighs and shakes his head, clearly already frustrated with my sass like always. I have to bite back a chuckle, because as miserable and silly this game my be, it might just end up being fun.


	23. rules of heartbreak pt.2

_Tom's_   _POV_

I can't stop shaking. I have no idea why, except that maybe I'm the  _tiniest_  bit nervous. There's no reason I should be though. I mean, I've gone out with a bunch of girls and never gotten nervous; it's just Y/N.

But I suppose that's the trouble. It's  _Y/N_.

It's the girl who had my attention since I met her at one of Haz's birthday parties years ago. We were different then. Still awkward, growing into our own skin, and not yet known for the trail of broken hearts we leave behind.

It's the girl who fascinates, angers, and terrifies me every moment she's around. I swear there are times I just can't get her out of my head. No matter how hard I try. No one know much about her beyond the trivial things, and I'm desperate to be the one person beside Haz who knows more. But then she inevitably makes some sassy, smart comment that sends me right into defensive mode.

Yet, beyond all that, she completely terrifies me. Because every time I meet her eyes—I swear, she sees me, and it stirs up feelings I'm still trying to forget.

I can't though. Especially not after that kiss on Monday.

It's been nearly a week since it happened, and I can't get it off my mind. Of course, I've kissed my fair share of girls, but this—this was different.

Maybe it's because she's been my crush since we were kids. Maybe it's because I've never admitted to myself that she's the one I've compared every past girlfriend too. Maybe it's because she's the cousin of my best mate, and he already made it very clear that if I decide to have something with her, everything else has to end. And maybe,  _maybe_  I'd be ready for that if she felt the same.

I force the thoughts aside as I try to fix my hair again in the hallway mirror for the hundredth time tonight. My brothers laugh at me from the living room. "So—who is it this week?" Harry asks with a smirk. Of course, he knows quite well who I'm going out with. He just can't refuse the opportunity to tease me about it.

"You know who." I snap and glare at him through the glass. He just smiles like he knows something more than I do, but I ignore it as I try to manage my unruly curls into something presentable. "Haz is gonna drop her off any minute now, and I better not hear you say anything stupid to her."

"Wow. She's got him nervous." Harry says over his shoulder to Sam, who now watches me with his full attention. "I'm guessing this time is different, huh?"

"I'm not gonna talk about this right now." The sound of car doors shutting draws my attention, and it sends my nerves into complete overdrive. I give up entirely on my hair and let it do its own thing as I grab my jacket and keys. "I don't know when I'll be back, but don't wait up."

My brother's jeers follow me as I rush to head out before they can cause any trouble. Harrison smiles and says something to Y/N, who stands beside him, leaning against the car and looking at her phone. But at Haz's words, she looks up at him with a smile and laughs in a way I've never heard before.

I almost have to pinch myself to remember this isn't a real date. We're both just playing a game—and she's clearly winning.

It's infuriating really, but I feel like I understand now what all the sorry blokes she's left behind meant. There's no routine with her; it's just Y/N wrapped up in her secrets and—seemingly—contradicting honesty. She's just magnetic.

I mean, we're going on a 'date,' yet she looks like she barely put any effort in with her beanie pulled low, favorite graphic tee, jeans she managed to tear herself, and the combat boots she practically lives in. Still, she looks amazing.

Her laughter fills my ears again as she walks over to me. "Didn't your mum teach you it was rude to stare?"

I can't help but return her grin as I reply, "Yes, but she also taught me to keep my eye on the prize."

Something in the atmosphere shifts. Her smile fades; Harrison seems to awkwardly shuffle behind her. "I'm a person, Holland, not an object to be won. Please, for both of our sakes, treat me as such."

She walks past me, and I give Harrison a questioning look. He just shakes his head. Great, another secret I'll never know.

I force myself to take a deep breath and turn back to her, careful not to anger her further. "We should probably get going."

She nods and waves goodbye to Haz before we climb into my car. Without waiting or asking permission, she grabs the aux cord and plugs in her phone. "Don't worry. We have similar music tastes."

And those are the only words she says to me the entirety of the drive.

...

_Y/N's POV_

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this game isn't worth the money. But, I'm running out of options. And maybe I overacted to Tom's comment.

I mean, I've kind of been giving him the silent treatment since we left his house, which is going on ten minutes now. And yeah, he deserved it, but I can't punish him forever. We have a 'date' to go on after all.

He keeps glancing over at me as his fingers drum against the steering wheel. I can feel it each time he looks at me; it's like a warmth that threatens to rosy my cheeks and coat my palms in a layer of sweat. I offer him a soft smile again. He holds the contact for a moment before looking back to the familiar roads.

The car stops next to the sidewalk of a busy street, and I instinctively look around for anything familiar or a clue about where we're going. It only takes me a moment to spot the familiar restaurant, and Tom grins with pride when he sees my smile at the idea of revisiting his old place.

Haz and I—occasionally joined by Tom—used to come here at least once a week back when we were kids and going to different schools. We crammed ourselves into the corner booth, ordered chips, and spent hours talking. It was my happy place.

Then everything changed.

I shake my head to dispel the thoughts threatening to surface. "I can't believe this old place is still standing," I chuckle to Tom as we climb out of the car, "or that you even remember it."

"I didn't for a long time, but Haz and I were talking and remembering how I would tag along to come here sometimes." He grins as if he knows how much this place means to me and the brownie points bringing me here earns him. "So— I thought this would be the perfect place for our first date."

A laugh escapes me at his excitement as he grabs my hand and laces our fingers together. "Don't sound cocky just yet, Holland. The place may be perfect, but it doesn't meant the date will be." My lips curl into a smirk as I signal for us to head inside. "Let's see how you do with a real date."

"So you agree it's a date?" He asks with a glimmer in his eyes. "Are you admitting that I'm taking you on a date?"

"Because of the bet, but yes." I turn away from him to head inside. And I pretend to not notice the happy, childish grin spread across his features.

The diner still has the same warmth and comfort it had so many years ago. There are still scuffs in the floor that will likely never go away, regulars in their old booths, and a few smiling waitresses rushing about. It makes me breathe a deep sigh at the relief it brings to see my happiest place unchanged.

As if on instinct, I drag Tom over to the worn corner booth nestled between the jukebox and window. The old leather crackles and creaks as I slide in and prop my feet up with my back resting against the cold window.

It's like jumping back to when I was thirteen. Back to the days that I didn't have to force a smile or laugh. Before I knew what pain and heartbreak felt like; before mum—

I feel Tom's eyes watching me—trying to pick me apart. And I'm suddenly reminded why I'm here. My lips curve into a forced smile, but right here—under Tom's gaze—if hurts so much more than usual. It feels like the lie it is.

"So, what's the routine for tonight, Holland?" I question and rest my chin on my palm. "You tell me how you never do this and either shower me in vague comments until I'm swooning and blushing or act all aloof and play hard to get?"

"What makes you think this is a game to me, love?" Tom asks me with confidence dripping off of him as he leans on the table. I roll my eyes at him, and how he always has to keep the air of superiority and dominance.

"Well, I'm fairly certain the couple hundred pounds our friends bet on this makes it  _seem_  like a game. Plus, everything is a game with you, Holland. It's always been that way." I tell him with a sigh as I subtly look for a way out of this conversation before it gets too tricky.

Because it wasn't always a game with him. When we were young and still gangly and awkward, back when things were good, it was simple. I saw Tom as a sort of friend, and I might—just might—have thought he was cute back then. That was all before he grew up and became the heartbreaker across from me.

"That may be true, but that doesn't mean I think of this as simply a game. For all you know, I could be serious about this."

A laugh threatens to escape me at the thought of the Tom Holland being serious about a relationship. Ever since he grew into his looks, he's been the same and  _nothing_  has changed. Although, I can't lie. I like the idea of getting the Tom I used to know back.

"Serious about what?" I question without much thought as I mimic him and lean on the table. "Serious about having a real relationship with me? Or serious about getting me into your bed like all the other girls? Because don't even bother if it's the latter. It's a waste of both our time."

His smirk fades, and his features soften. For a second, it's as if there's a whole new side to him emerging in front of me. Someone who has created rough edges to hide and protect a soft interior. His voice is barely audible as he whispers, "And if it's the former?"

I notice a waitress approaching our little corner and decide to quickly answer Tom before the topic shuts down entirely. "Then I'd remind you, actions speak louder than words. So prove it."


	24. rules of heartbreak pt.3

I wish I could say that Tom wasn't proving me wrong in every way, but I can't. Because he is.

It's been nearly two weeks since our 'first date' at the old diner, and after I made my little 'prove it' taunt, Tom has really stepped up to the plate. It doesn't feel fake like it did at the start. I don't feel the need to flinch or pull away when he takes my hand or makes any form of contact.

"Hello, darling." He whispers as he leans against the lockers next to mine. "Wait for a second," he pauses as a smirk overtakes his features, "did you steal my beanie again?"

I roll my eyes at him as I shut my locker and adjust my books in my arms. "What do you mean 'again'? I've never stolen your beanie before, but you left it at Haz's and my ears were cold. Plus, I'm fairly sure Charlotte stole mine, so I needed something."

Tom just smiles softly. The corners of his lips barely turning up as he laces his fingers through mine like always when he walks me to class. "Well, in that case, keep it. It looks better on you anyway."

I try not to blush at the gesture, but I can't stop the way my heart keeps trying to race out of my chest. "So, what are you up to today? You never walk me to final period unless you want something." I smirk and raise an eyebrow as he falters in his steps.

"Ugh," He sighs and tosses his head back, "Sometimes I hate that you know me so well."

"Perks of 'dating' me, I suppose." I tease with a growing smirk. "But you know, you could always admit that you love it—and by extension me." 

"Not quite, love." He retorts and turns to me as we stop just outside my class. "I was going to tell you that Jack is having a party tonight, and I really want to go."

"That creepy div? No way, there's no way I'm going." I retort with a crinkled up nose. "Do you know just how many times that guy has tried to—I don't even want to know—with me?"

Tom juts out his lower lip in a sad attempt at a pout. "But, babe, this time you'll have me there. I'll be with you the whole time. It's only a party. Plus, I think there was something about going to parties together in the contract."

“No, there most certainly wasn't. I would remember because I'm not a fan of grimy house parties. Why do you even want to go so badly?"

"What? Can't a guy just want to spend a night with his girl and best mates?" He inquires as he steps forward and closes the space between us seeing as how I have no escape. "Please, just for a little bit, and once you want to leave we will."

I let out a sigh, knowing there's no way I'm going to talk him out of this. Not to mention, I don't know how much closer I can stand him being before I snap—either good or bad it won't be pretty. So I just roll my eyes and say, "Fine, but you owe me, Holland. Big time."

He just grins like a child with a new toy as he presses a kiss to my forehead. "Thank you, love. I promise it will be fun." When he pulls away, it's as if he suddenly realizes just how close we are, and his eyes drill into mine. A part of me wants to break away in some irrational fear that he'll be able to see my secrets. But I can't.

Especially when his deep brown eyes flick down to my lips for just a fraction of a second. My palms grow slick and hands shake. I can't quite tell if he's leaning in closer, or it's just the feeling of his breath on my lips driving me insane. But a part of me doesn't hate it. 

The warning bell rings and startles us out of the nearly perfect moment. "I should head in. Try not to be late, Holland. You can pick me up at Haz's around 7?"

"Sounds great. I'll see you then, love." He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, which are clouded with emotions. Tom presses a lingering kiss to my cheek before regaining a real smile and running off to his classes.

I watch him go before heading into class where I try to figure out what the heck Tom Holland is doing to me. Although, I have to take a moment in the study to slip out my phone and casually text Haz. "Hey, don't get pissed, but I need to stop by the house this afternoon."

His reply comes seconds later, and I can see him watching me from across the room to see my reaction. "What? Why? I thought you weren't going back after what happened when you went to check on wednesday?"

I sigh and offer him a sad look as I automatically tug down my shirtsleeves to make sure the bruise and little cuts aren't visible. "I know, but I didn't get to grab any more of my stuff. Plus, I really should check on her."

"Fine, but we'll work out the details after school." He replies, clearly pissed with the idea of me going back to my flat after the breakdown that happened a few days ago. I just close my eyes and remind myself there's no one else to do these things. Plus, I need clothes that would pass for something other than school. Because I'm fairly sure Tom if not others are growing more suspicious of my constantly school appropriate casual attire.

I lay my head down on the desk and try not to cry from the weight that constantly is pressing down on my shoulders. It brings a small understanding of what it must have felt like for Atlas. Because while he had the actual world on his shoulders; it sure feels like I have it and a hundred other things on mine.

...

"Five minutes, Haz," I tell him as I stare at the house slowly wearing down from the passenger seat. "If I'm not back in five minutes, I need you to knock on the door and tell her we're working on a European History project on Louis the thirteenth, which means I'll be staying with you all weekend."

"Wow. This fictional project sure is detailed." He jokes trying to lighten the mood, but I can't manage a smile. "Y/N, it will be fine. It'll be five minutes, and she probably won't even be awake to stop you."

"Gee, that's encouraging." I sigh and rub my temples. "I don't know what's worse, Haz, finding her passed out or dealing with all the crap she throws at me."

"Have you tried contacting him recently—your dad?"

"I tried again last week. I sent him another email since he changed all his numbers, but I don't expect a reply. He hasn't answered at all the past few years, so I don't have high hopes." I give him a quick nod. "Alright, I'm just gonna climb in through my window. I don't want her throwing another vase thinking I'm an intruder walking through the front door."

"Sounds like a plan." Haz offers a tight smile. "Five minutes."

I nod in affirmation as I sling my emptied backpack over my shoulder and jimmy open the window to my childhood bedroom, which I avoid sleeping in at all cost these days. My boots hit the carpet softly. The house is quiet, which I'm thankful for. It means that she's not currently on a rampage.

The thought sends a shiver through me. Especially when the bandaids peek out from the edge of my sleeve. I tug it down as I move through my room and grab handful of clothes from my drawers and a few items from the closet to chose into my backpack.

It's only slightly sad when I notice it's another drawer empty. Each week is something else that leaves here and moves to my room at my aunt and uncle's. I stop and look through the pictures arranged above my bed, wondering which memory gets saved today.

One of them stands out. It was from one of Haz's birthday parties. My arm was wrapped around his waist, and he had his slung over my shoulder and his 'best friend' Tom. All of us look so happy in that moment. Eyes sparkling, lips smiling widely, and clearly enjoying ourselves.

I pull it off the wall with shaking hands and tuck it into the outside pocket of my backpack with a small smile. I check my watch. Two more minutes until Haz comes. The thought sends me to gather up the last of my things and quietly slip through the hallways in search for any sign of my mum, just to see how she's holding up since I last checked.

Unfortunately, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My makeup is still perfect. Lipstick un-smudged or faded, eyeliner perfectly accenting my eyes, and everything I do to make myself prettier. Yet, I can still hear what she would say if she could see me. That lipstick shade isn't right for you, honey. Always match your skin tone. Guys only ever stay for the pretty girls; so keep yourself pretty and give him a prize that he'll want to keep.

It's a voice filled with thinly-veiled insults and horrible life advice. The one that I constantly try to hush. It's the same one that sparks my doubts in every relationship, which lead to my heartbreaker reputation. All because I'm scared that I'll never be good enough; so I leave before they can. I break their heart before they break mine.

She's lying on the couch when I find her. Her hand tucked under a decorative pillow, which she slowly drools on. My heart breaks a little at the sight. Especially when I notice another bottle tipped over on the table. 

I bite my lip and grab a blanket to cover her with. "Don't worry, Mum. I'm gonna get you better soon." I sigh and fight back an onslaught of tears. "I promise." If I can make it through this bet, that is.

There's no sound in the house as I slip out and lock the door behind me. Harrison waits with the car running, seatbelt unbuckled as if he was about to march in to my rescue. "Don't worry. She wasn't even awake this time." I tell him with a bittersweet smile.

"You know my parents would help if you asked. You're family, Y/N, and you need her to get help just as much as she needs it."

I sigh and turn to stare out the window. "I know, but I'm so close. Plus, it just feels wrong asking them for money. You all have been kind enough as is already. I'm not going to take advantage of you like that. It's fine, Haz. I'll find a way to get the last bit."

"Fine." He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. Still, he doesn't say anything else as he buckles his seatbelt and watches me out of the corner of his eye as he drives. It's silent and awkward which is a rare thing for Haz and I. "So—" he draws the word out, and I mentally prepare myself for whatever awkward topic is about to come up, "—how's the thing with Tom going?"

I swear my palms grow sweaty and half my blood supply rushes directly to my cheeks. "It's fine, I think? I don't really know. Tom can be hard to read sometimes.”

Harrison looks at me from the corner of his eye and raises an eyebrow. "I wasn't asking about him. I was more curious about how you're doing with this."

"I'm fine. I mean, it's not like I'm gonna be falling at his feet anytime soon. He's still Tom." A sigh escapes me as I chew on my lip and debate whether or not to ask one of the questions swirling in my head. "Okay, since you're one of his best mates, I have to ask. Do you think he's been acting differently lately? I mean, he walks me to class, holds my hand, gets me flowers. The Tom I've known hasn't done that before."

Now it's Harrison's turn to sigh as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "I'm gonna be honest with you, Y/N. But it means I need you, to be honest with me in return." I nod and turn to face him as he pulls into the driveway and does the same. "I can't say for sure, but I think Tom might be serious about this—about having something real with you. A couple of years ago, he asked me about dating you, and I told him the truth—if he really wanted to, he'd have to give up the rest of the player crap he does. And just last week, he was asking me what your favorite flowers were, date ideas, and things you like."

My mind spins. Could Tom really be serious about this as more than just the game? Heck, do I want to be serious about it? "Wow," I whisper without thinking. "It's nice and all, but do you think he's really changing? You know, back to the Tom we knew before?"

Harrison pauses and thinks it over for a moment. "I think he might be, but I guess we'll have to wait and see to be sure. Although, I have to ask—would you give him a real chance if he did?” 

"Depends," I hum as I reach for my backpack, "do you think he would stick around if he knew how much baggage I have?" Harrison stays silent as he thinks it over, but I take it as my answer to end the discussion. "That's what I thought—and feared."


	25. rules of heartbreak pt.4

The heavy thumping bass reverberates through the walls and my skull. It's a feeling that normally would make me seek out a quiet corner to people watch and laugh at everyone, but today, I relish it.

Because with the thumping music in my head it's easier to forget everything—with my mum, the game, and worst of all, my emerging feelings for a certain brown-eyed heartbreaker. But he is still making it hard to forget with his hand in mine as he navigates us through the sea of people.

We stop to say hi to a group with some of our friends, Haz, and a few of the football team, all of whom make it a point to stare at me like a piece of meat. I notice Tom clench his jaw. I brush it aside assuming it's nothing more than my throbbing head playing tricks.

Although, when one—Chris, I think—lets his gaze linger much longer than necessary as he sips something from his plastic cup. A split second after, I feel an arm wrap around my waist. My eyes find Tom, who is currently glaring at Chris in utter disdain.

I can't fight back the flush that threatens to tint my cheeks or the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. Harrison gives me a look over the rim of his cup, clearly noticing the gesture and my reaction. He quirks an eyebrow, and it confirms that he knows another one of my secrets.

Tom keeps his arm wrapped around my waist as he holds me close to him. And I would be a complete liar if I said I didn't actually enjoy the contact. It sends my heart into a flurry, especially when he meets my eyes with that tender look he's gotten lately.

I almost want to say the words that would break me. Those three simple words with the power to kill. They rest on the tip of my tongue. But I can't. If I say those words—if I admit to what I  _might_  be feeling for Tom, there'll be no undoing it or mending that could fix me.

The words fall quiet underneath the doting, lecturing voice of my mother. It's the usual lecture.  _Stand up straight, lean into him, make yourself a worthy trophy for him to display_. My stomach churns at the thought of her ideals to be nothing more than an item to be flaunted and displayed for someone. It sends me immediately looking for a way out or distraction.

So, I do what I do best. I play the game.

I hold them back and unwrap myself from Tom's grip. He gives me a curious look, and I move closer to his ear so he can actually hear me. "I wanna dance. You wanna come?" I give him a hopeful grin with a tint of mischief. He visibly swallows as he stares at me with wide eyes.

Once he gives me a frantic nod, I smirk and kiss the edge of his lips before sauntering off—knowing full well that ninety percent of the guys are watching me walk away and slapping Tom on the back for 'landing' me. It makes me feel powerful—in control again—but simultaneously nauseated. It's an odd feeling in combination with the chaos and turmoil.

I weave my way through the tangle of people, and I don't need to look back to know Tom is close behind me. We make it to the living room where the furniture is pushed back and everyone is moving to a smoother beat then when we entered. The thumping of the music settles into my bones, and I turn to Tom with a smile as I start to dance.

In a way, it's freeing. I let myself unwind and hands drift in the air as if to absorb every vibration of the now enjoyable music. The rhythm starts to echo in my muscles and moves my body in time with it. Hips sway to the beat underneath Tom's hands, and one quick glance at him shows that he's clearly unsure of what to do at my carefree state.

I let out a genuine laugh as I grab his hands and get him to dance. It takes him a moment to overcome his shock, but when he does everything changes. His hands come to rest gently on my hips as we move together. It surprises me how  _natural_  it feels, and what's even more surprising is Tom's lack of usual charisma. Right now, he's not a boy trying to get into my pants. He's just the guy I've only seen in our quiet moments alone.

And it makes me have to fight everything in me not to kiss him. My mind is spinning. I can't help my heart from racing or the laugh that tumbles from my lips. All because of Tom. It's like he's bringing out a side of me I've never known. One that I have no control of.

And it terrifies me. Because this is the Tom I knew so many years ago, the one I had a crush on, and the one person I could love. Except, there's that sliver of fear lingering in the back of my head.

The feeling seems to jumpstart the logical side of my brain, which reminds me that this is nothing more than a game. It's nothing more than a simple bet to see who can make the other fall first, and I can't afford to lose. I can't afford to be broken when he inevitably leaves.

Tom leans in closer, and I swear my heart stutters in my chest. His eyes dart down to my lips for a split second as he licks his own. Then he seems to snap out of his reverie and shouts so I can hear. "I'm gonna get a drink. You want anything?" I shake my head and watch as he leaves.

There's a twinge of disappointment that echoes through me at the thought of the kiss that  _could_  have happened. But I shake it off and force myself to keep dancing.

...

_Tom's POV_

I walk away from Y/N and try to sort through my own thoughts. I almost kissed her. I  _wanted_ to kiss her. She just looks so happy and real and carefree right now. It's intoxicating and terrifying.

All the more reason I need a drink. I nod to Haz, who is leaning against the counter and gives me a look when I walk in. "So—how are things going?" My mind goes blank, and I have no idea what to even say. "Have you told her yet?"

"Told her what?" I question as I mix my drink.

"That you love her." Haz says it so casually as if he was talking about the weather, and I freeze. "C'mon, dude, it's obvious. You've liked her for years now, and I see the way you look at her."

"We both know she doesn't like me like that, mate."

"And if I told you she might?" He asks quietly and takes a long sip. "Because I know Y/N, and there's something different about her since you guys started this. She's—more herself. Just—talk to her about it. Make sure she knows you're serious about this  _outside_  the bet."

I open my mouth to respond, but I get interrupted by a hand on my shoulder and one of my friends saying, "Mate, I'd get back to your girl. Jack's got his eye on her tonight." The words make me nauseated and pissed off at the same time. Jack's an asshole who does whatever he wants to get his way, and the mere thought of him being near Y/N makes my knuckles go white as I slam my cup down.

My eyes frantically search through the mass of bodies, anxious to find and make sure she's okay. Unfortunately, I see her trying to shove Jack off as he keeps a tight grip on her waist as he presses his lips to hers, despite her obvious protest and dismay. The scene turns the whole room red, and my thoughts become hazy as I stomp over to them.

Although, Y/N reacts before I can, and Jack doubles over with his hands over his crotch. I take the initiative to lift him straight enough to give him a decent hit. "Don't you  _ever_  touch her like that again." I seethe as I grip onto his collar before letting him fall to the floor.

I turn around and rush after Y/N as she frantically runs out of the house. I find her out front with her hands on her knees as she tries to keep her breathing even. Tears stream down her face and smear her makeup. The sight of her so upset—so broken—makes me want to march back inside and make sure Jack doesn't get up as easily as before.

But I stay. Because Y/N clearly needs  _someone_  right now, and something in my gut says it should be—has to be—me.

She looks up at me with teary eyes when I take a slow step towards her. I don't move closer and make no attempt to touch her. I don't want to scare her or hurt her further by doing something without her permission.

It only takes a second before she tumbles into my arms and cries into my shirt. "Hey, it's okay, love. I've got you," I whisper into her hair as I rub gentle circles on her back. "You're gonna be okay. I promise."

Haz emerges from the house, rustled and bloody knuckled. He gives me an approving nod when he notices Y/N slowly calming down. "C'mon, I'll drive both of you home." He offers and takes my keys since we all came together. "Just stay with her, okay?"

She slowly stops crying as we drive but makes no attempt to move away from my grip. If anything, she holds onto me tighter and hides her face in my shirt. I press a kiss to the top of her head and wish there was something more I could do.

When we make it to Harrison's, she finally lets go and practically races into the house the moment the car stops. "Is she gonna be okay?" I ask quietly and stare at the still open front door.

"Maybe." He mumbles as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel in thought. "I can talk to her and let you know."

"Actually—" I turn the thought over in my mind. Something in me screams not to leave just yet, "—do you mind if I hang around? Just be here in case there's something I can do to help?"

There's a ghost of a smile that tugs at the edges of his lips. "Yeah, mate. You're welcome to stay." He pauses for a long moment before saying, "I think she needs you more than she'll admit. Just—just give her some time. She's been through a lot, but she'll tell you when she's ready."

I nod. There's so much I don't know about Y/N, but as much as I didn't want to admit it, I would do anything for her to feel comfortable enough to confide in. Because—I think I might just love her.


	26. rules of heartbreak pt.5

I stare at myself in the mirror. No makeup to hide the bags under my eyes, no perfect shade of lipstick to keep people from looking too close, nothing to hide behind. It's the real Y/N, and I don't know what to make of her. Mostly because she's been lost under the fake laughter and false happiness for so long.

Except for when I'm around Tom.

It's a glaring truth I can't hide from anymore. Tonight, I saw what all this fake has made me into. A perfect doll that everyone wants on their arm or in their bed. Nothing more than an idea to most people.

But when I was dancing with Tom—when he looked at me—I felt real. I felt understood. Heck, I felt brave for the first time in what seems like an eternity, and I can't bring myself to hate him for it—I can't hate the way he looks at me like I used to.

I think I'm in love with Tom Holland.

The thought rings in my head as I trudge out of the bathroom to the guest bedroom my aunt and uncle were gracious enough to let me overrun. My sweatpants drape over my feet and onto the floor just enough to keep back a bit of the chill. I twist one of Harrison's old shirts around my fingers as I try to deny my feelings.

I can't be in love with Tom. I just can't. Because loving someone is too much of a risk. You give them everything and pray they will stay, and they don't always.

_But sometimes they do_. A soft voice whispers in a way so much like my aunt when she comforts me on the rough days. It's gentle and sparks a little bit of hope that maybe it wouldn't all go to ruin.

My train of thought is interrupted the moment I spot Tom sitting on the edge of my bed, smiling down at the photo I grabbed earlier today. "Why?" I question, my voice raw and scratchy. Tom instantly looks up at me with a curious look. "Why are you still here? I thought you would have left by now. It's not like you have a reason to stay." The last part comes out in a bitter whisper, because on the surface, I still can't help but think he'll leave.

Tom squints his eyes, and I swear there's a sadness to his voice as he asks. "You really think I would leave you like that?" I shrug and sit a few feet away from him. His eyes go back to the picture, and I can't help but watch him. There's a faint smile on his lips. A shine to his wondrous brown eyes that messes with my head. "You know, I still think about that day."

"What? Harrison's party?" I question, wondering where the heck he's going with this.

"Yeah. It was the day I started having a crush on you." He says it so casually. "You were so funny and bright and just—I can't even explain it. I wanted to ask you out so badly, but I didn't cause you were Haz's cousin.

"Then when we hung out at the diner, I just fell so much harder." He pauses, voice turning sad as he continues, "It changed not too long after, and I never knew why."

I sigh and pull my knees up to my chest. "My dad left." I whisper, feeling lighter at the admission of truth. For some reason, it feels natural when I talk to Tom after these weeks of dating. "He and my mum were having problems long before that, but one day I woke up to him leaning over my bed and telling me he had to leave. He promised he would come back soon, but that never happened.

"It was downhill after that." I whisper and hastily wipe away a tear. "Mum had been in an accident a few weeks before, and after she started changing. I didn't realize until it was too late that she had gotten hooked on her pain pills. I hid it for a while. Kept it a secret and pretended that she was still upset over the divorce.

"Then she started having mood swings. She would get so angry over nothing, scream at me, throw things, and then within the hour she was back to being my mum. Except she always told me the same things, 'you can't leave me, baby. Everyone always leaves, but you can't.' It's about the same time she started teaching me how to be a good trophy, how to make sure you're nice and pretty so 'he'll stay.'"

I look up at Tom through the tears. His eyes are full with understanding and sorrow as he tentatively rests a hand on my knee. "I'm sorry, Y/N. No one deserves to go through that." He pauses for a long second and glances around the room. "Is that why you live with Harrison?"

"Yeah. I go and check on her every couple days, and I've been saving up my money. I'm close to having enough to get her real help." I whisper and avoid his eyes. "It's why I took the bet. The money will be enough."

Tom's fingers curl beneath my chin and lifts it so I'm forced to look at him. "Well, if it helps, you won."

My heart stutters in my chest. Tom loves me? I want to smile at the thought, but there's the issue that I love him too. Neither of us wins. "It doesn't." I find myself whispering and wipe away another tear. "Because it means neither of us won."

Tom's hand falls and eyes widen. "Wait, are you—?" I meekly nod. "You love me?"

"Or close to it at least." I mumble and do everything I can from looking at him.

Although, it's hard not to when he grabs the sides of my face. His eyes bore into mine before flickering down to my lips. "Well, consider this me officially forfeiting." His lips brush mine as he speaks and painfully slowly closes the distance.

My hands rest on the back of his neck and pull him closer as we kiss. All the while my head spins. Because it's so different from every other kiss I've had. While the others were all hasty and wanting; this is soft, tender, and loving. We both part for breath, and I frown despite myself.

I want this so badly. I need this, but my fears still linger. "I don't think I can do this. I'm sorry." I whisper and pull away from him as I run out of the room.

Tom follows immediately and gently grabs my waist to stop me. "I love you. You love me. So give me one good reason why I can't make you happy, Y/N." He whimpers as he presses our foreheads together.

Tears build in my eyes again. "Because—" I stutter through the emotions, "—as much as I want this. It can't happen. I'll just end up hurt when it ends or when you leave."

"Y/N," He says it like a prayer, "I would never intentionally hurt you. Please, just give me a chance. I'll do anything." He opens his eyes and wipes my tears as he desperately whispers, "Please."

I sigh and desperately try to make a decision. "Tom, I—"


	27. rules of heartbreak pt.6

"Tom, I—" my words are interrupted by the blaring of my ringtone through the hallway. My mind immediately starts to reel. No one calls me, much less this late, which means something is wrong.

As if he can feel my worry, Tom immediately steps aside as I race to grab my phone from where I had tossed it on the bed. My fingers were I had tossed it on the bed. My fingers struggle to answer the phone and press it to my ear. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end is calm amidst the muffled chaos in the background. "Hello, is this Y/N L/N?"

"Yes." I reply already feeling my stomach drop to the floor.

"I'm sorry to be calling at this hour, Miss. I'm calling from St. Bards since you're listed as the emergency contact for M/N—" The rest of what they say is lost as my phone slides from my hand.

I turn around and run out of the room, shouting for Harrison. He and Tom both stare at me incredulously and worrisome. "We have to go—St. Bard's—my mum." It comes out in hasty, raspy slurs, but it's enough to spark them into action.

Harrison immediately grabs keys and a pair of my shoes when he notices me racing around barefoot, and Tom's hand finds mine as we run out of the house.

...

"This is all my fault." I whisper, entirely numb and cried out. Tom hasn't let go of my hand since we left, and at my words he gives it a tight squeeze. "I should have said something sooner; let someone—anyone—help."

Harrison climbs out of the seat next to me and kneels on the floor so we make eye contact. His crystal blue eyes are bloodshot and still filled with tears. "Don't you dare say that. Nothing about this is your fault. Even the doctors said her body wouldn't have survived detox if you got her help. She was already gone."

I nod somberly. It's true; I lost my mum long ago. Except now, there's not even a corrupted version of her that exists. "I know; it's just I feel like I should have done more. She was my mum. She wasn't supposed to leave me like this."

Harrison goes to say something more but is pulled away by my aunt calling him back. So Tom takes over for him as he laces his fingers through mine and presses a gentle kiss to my head. "I told you, Tom, everyone leaves." I mumble, "They always leave."

"Sometimes it's not a choice," he whispers, "but non one can stay if you never give them the chance."

It's quiet for a long time between us as I consider his statement. Maybe he's right, and maybe this won't end in heartbreak. Maybe it's worth the risk—he's worth the risk.

"Okay." I mumble and turn toward him. "Okay, I'll give you a chance, but you have to know it may take time. I don't mind if you don't want to wait for me to sort things out."

Tom just smiles softly and presses a light kiss to my forehead and stares into my eyes. "Oh, love, for you, I'd wait an eternity."

...  
 _1 year later_

I look around the room and can't help but smile. Tom and Harrison took a break from Tom's filming so they could be with me right now. Because today marks one year since I lost my mum. It's still hard to believe that they cared so much that they came back just to make sure I wasn't alone.

My mind goes back over the past year. All the breakdowns, the work to sort myself out, and the people who stood by me through it all—like Tom, who has kept the promise he made and more.

He's waited and stood by me, which the media adores that he's so devoted to his 'mystery girl.' What they don't know are the struggles, the late night calls, and the overwhelming support he's given me.

I watch him from my resting place against his chest. We agreed to watch a movie once the guys got settled, and it didn't take long for Haz to pass out from jet lag and Tom and I to curl up together beneath a blanket.

His eyes are alight with humor at the movie. The light of the screen is casting shadows that perfectly highlight his features. His fingers absentmindedly fiddle with my own as the others run through my hair. And that's when it hits me.

"Hey, Tom," I whisper as I push myself up and look at him, "can I talk to you for a second?"

"Of course, darling," he replies and directs all his attention to me as if the movie never existed.

I bite my lip in worry as I try to sort my thoughts, which makes Tom's features crinkle in worry. "Obviously, you know that a year ago, I lost my mum. That same night I made a choice—to give you—to give us a chance. And the words you told me, I still haven't forgotten."

"For you, I'd wait an eternity." Tom whispers knowingly with a nervous smile and brushes my hair from my face."

"Exactly. And well—this year has certainly felt like an eternity, but you've waited and supported me through everything." I fight back tears as I pull my gaze from my fidgeting fingers to meet Tom's gaze. "So, that being said. Thomas Stanley Holland, would you do consider giving me a chance to be called your girlfriend?"

"No," He states without hesitation, and my heart nearly breaks right then. But he continues quickly before I can get carried away, "No, I don't need to consider it. Because from now on, I am officially calling you my girlfriend."

I smile and lean forward to close the distance between us. Our lips meet for the first time in a year, and it feels so much greater than I remembered or imagined. Tom smiles when we parts and rests a hand on my cheek as he traces my features with his thumb. "Are you sure you want it to be today though? We can always wait so our anniversary isn't on such a rough day."

I shake my head vehemently. "No, today is perfect. Because, after everything we've been through, I think we deserve to make something ugly into something beautiful. I'd rather celebrate today and forget to mourn." Tom just smiles and softly kisses me again. "Also," I whisper against his lips, "I know this is super early in our official relationship to say this, but I love you."

Tom lets out a deep sigh, "Oh thank goodness. I was afraid I would have to wait to say 'I love you too.' You're the best thing that has happened to me, Y/N L/N, and just so you know, I plan on sticking around forever if you'll have me. Heck, I wanna marry you one day."

"I think I'd like that." I smile and rest my forehead against his, relishing the feeling of loving someone and being truly loved in return. Because for the first time in my life, I see a future that doesn't consist of me being alone. I see myself happy, content, and loved. All of it with Tom by my side. And I finally feel hopeful about what's to come.


	29. colors pt.1 {p.p.}

_Soulmate AU_

My paint covered fingers grip onto the paintbrush as I finish the composition with one final stroke. "Wonderful job, Y/N," my art teacher says with a sigh of awe. I just smile sadly because I know what she's  _not_  saying, the thing that she's learned to stop talking about to me.  _The colors_.

I'm told all my works are vibrant, daring blends of them that makes my work so 'breathtaking,' but there's no way for me to tell. Everyone is different. Some have timers, others brands or necklaces, but me—well, I'm the point one percent of the population that can't see color. Until I meet my soulmate supposedly. I don't really know if I believe it anymore.

So, I just pretend like I do and act like I understand what everyone else I've known sees. "Thank you, Miss Miller." I tell her as I clean up my brushes and station. My eyes keep going back to the now covered canvas. All patterned over in shades of grey to make up an image of my dad smiling from behind the counter of our famous deli. It's going to be his birthday gift, and I hope he'll love it just as much as the others.

The bell rings signaling the end of school, and I linger in the art room with its messy counters and paint splatters to avoid the inevitable squeals of excitement as someone else gets one step closer. One step closer to finding the one person made to compliment them in every way, the other half of their pair, and who they're 'destined' to spend their lives with.

Unfortunately, Miss Miller catches me today and rushes me out once my painting is wrapped up and ready to go. I begrudgingly sling my backpack on my shoulder and leave the safety and quiet of the classroom into the bustling hallway. My best friend quickly finds me and sighs when she notices my frown.

"Uh oh, I know that look. She did the roundabout compliment again, didn't she?" Her fingers sign, which is nothing more than an old habit from before she found her soulmate. She was nearly deaf and relied on hearing aids until she met her soulmate, and the first thing both of them heard clearly was the others voice. It's one of the cuter tales that makes me slightly bitter.

"Yep." I sigh and adjust the straps of my backpack as a girl from down the hallway squeals as she either finds her soulmate or gets a step closer. "Don't worry about me though, I'll be fine. I just have to get home early to help my mom set up and properly wrap this for my dad."

"Y/N Delmar, don't you brush it off like it's nothing." She snaps and glares at me. "I know it's hard, but it will happen for you too. We're still young. You have a lot of time before you should even think about giving up."

"I know," I tell her with a forced smile and prepare the usual lie, "and I haven't given up. I'm just waiting for whoever it is to actually show up. Now, I'm sorry, but I really have to run." She nods, clearly not happy with my answer but knowing from experience arguing goes no where.

I give her a quick wave and tightly hold onto the paper wrapped canvas as I weave my way through the crowds to my Dad's bodega. For some reason, I'm feeling nervous and impatient to be surrounded by the familiar deli.

Something just doesn't feel right as I walk. My fingers curl and crinkle the plain brown paper. There's a knot forming in my gut that only grows with every passing moment. I half expect it to fade as the infamous Delma's Grocery and Deli comes into view, but it doesn't.

There's a tug, and my heart lurches in my chest as someone snatches the painting from my hand and runs down the street with it. He probably thinks it's worth something, but unfortunately for him, its monetary value is next to nothing. The sentimental value is priceless though. "Hey," I scream as I start running after the thief.

He darts into an alley, and as foolish as it is, I follow him. Because all I can think about is the piece I worked so hard on these past weeks for my dad that is clutched in his greasy hands. "Give that back!" I shout at him as I tug on the back of his hood to stop him.

The thief turns around with a sneer and flicks his wrist to reveal a small blade. "I suggest you walk away and forget about it, lady."

"Actually," another voice chimes in, and I turn around to come face to face with the Queens hero Spiderman, "I think it's the other way around. Now give the nice girl back her stuff and walk away." The thief's eyes widen as the canvas drops from his hands and he scrambles to get away before the hero can change his mind.

I pick it up and sigh at the damp paper that falls off at my touch. "Well, I guess it won't be much fun to unwrap now. Thank you though." I offer a soft smile to Spiderman, "You just helped me save my dad's gift."

The lenses on his mask widen for a split second, and he scratches the back of his neck as he attempts to be casual. "It's no problem, ma'am. It's just what I do."

"It's Y/N," I tell him as I walk by him, "and thank you again. It's kind of nice having a neighborhood hero around to help the little guys too. Trust me, we appreciate it."

"I-it's no problem." He stutters, and I let out a small laugh as I wave and leave the alleyway. All the while, I feel his eyes on me as I go and can't wipe the smile from my face.

My dad beams when he sees me walking through the door, and his smile only grows when he notices the bundle in my hand. "I know you said no gifts, but I couldn't help it." I tell him as I gently remove the damp paper wrapping. "Sorry about this. I ran into a small problem on the way over, but it should be fine."

I watch him as his eyes trace over every inch of the canvas in wonder, and that's when I notice it. The little bit of  _something_  peeking through the grey of his shirt.

The first bit of color I've ever seen.

It's faint. So much that it still is nearly lost amidst the greys, but it's still there. Which means one thing—I met my soulmate sometime today.

The thought sends my mind frantically backtracking, and I mentally review ever encounter I've had today. All the seemingly pointless research B/F/N helped me do last month suddenly springs back to my mind in a string of testimonials and facts.

My form of search is the rarest of rare, but people have often said that the colors didn't come all at once unless they really got to know their soulmate in the first moments. Most times they came with each individual interaction and only seemed to truly show in relation to their soulmate until they finally fell for them. But the one agreement across the board is that the colors were never so vibrant as they were on their soulmate.

Still, I may not be a math or science nerd, but even I know that the variables are exponential. It could be a stranger I passed, a brief interaction. Heck, it could even be Spiderman.

My heart drops a fraction. Whoever it is, I saw them today. They gave me a piece of the one thing I've wanted for so long, but I feel as though they've slipped through my fingers like runny paint.

So, I say nothing of the topic to my dad or anyone as I continue with my day like usual. After all, if the precious, all-powerful universe or forces that be or whatever want us together so badly; I'll let it do all the heavy work.

_..._  
_Peter's POV_

I watch her complete dumbstruck. There's color, plain as day on her lips and shoes. It's almost blindingly vibrant against the grays, but it's undeniable proof.

Her lips curve up into a smile as she finally meets my eyes, and I know she's saying something but can't quite hear it over my own heartbeat roaring in my ears. All I catch is something along the lines of 'thank you.' I instinctively scratch at the back of my neck and try to keep calm as I reply, "It's no problem, ma'am. It's just what I do."

She moves closer to me as she speaks, "It's Y/N, and thank you again. It's kind of nice having a neighborhood hero around to help the little guys too. Trust me, we appreciate it."

"I-it's no problem." I want to curse myself for the stutter that makes its way into my words, but she doesn't seem to notice as she lets out a light laugh and waves. My head still spins as she walks away.

It's like my brain can't quite process the information, from the small pops of color now clear to me to the fact that I met her—my soulmate—and she's so much more beautiful than I expected. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something familiar about her—especially her smile.

Something in my brain clicks back into action though, and I scold myself for being an idiot to let her walk away. My feet carry me at a sprint out the alley; head swiveling in both directions to catch sight of her. Because even though we barely met, there's still that pull that everyone talk about, the one where you just have to know more.

I spot her farther down the street with her backpack secured over her shoulders and her mystery item wrapped tightly in her grasp. People give me strange looks and a wide berth as I chase her down the street, and it takes me a moment to realize why. I'm in my Spiderman suit.

I met my soulmate as Spiderman.

If I didn't feel like an idiot before, I really do now. Because I met my soulmate and can't tell her who I am without revealing my identity and putting her in danger. It bounces through my head as I watch her turn into the corner store and swing myself on an adjacent building to watch her—in the least creepy way possible.

It takes me a second to realize exactly where she's at until I spot her talking to Mr. Delmar with the package in her hand, which she unwraps with delicate fingers. I watch in amazement as the painting is revealed and she turns it over.

There are a flurry of the color I can now see across the canvas, and Mr. Delmar beams as she hands it over to him. Right then, it hits me. I know now why she looks so familiar. Y/N—as in Y/N Delmar, who her dad is always talking and bragging about to anyone will listen. She's the painter, writer, and genius as I've always heard, and it honestly makes me even more nervous to know that she's my soulmate.

I just don't know this is all going to work out. She met me as Spiderman and even just thinking about telling her who I am makes my head spin. So I do the only thing I can think of, I decide to ask Mr. Stark for advice—since Aunt May would only majorly flip out.

But right now, I simply just watch her and hope to know more about her.


	30. colors pt.2

_Peter's POV_

She sits by the window like usual. Her colorful lips are curved up into a dazed smile as she draws with one hand and stroker her cat Murphy with the other. She stares intently a the paper, looking caught halfway between concentration and enjoyment.

And I don't think anyone has ever looked so beautiful.

It feels strange to watch her like this and—honestly—a little unfair. Each time I see her in raw moments like this, I discover another color. Yet, she doesn't.

Still, I've got a plan to change it. In a few days, I'll go into the deli later than usual when I know she'll be there—as Peter Parker, of course. Then, all she has to do is see me, and she'll know.

"Just a few more days." I say to myself fas I take one last look at her before starting my usual patrol. Plus, I'll be back later like every day this week to make sure her and Mr. Delmar make it to their home safely.

...

_Y/N's POV_

"What do you think, Murph?" I ask my cat who is lazily purring on my lap, tail occasionally swiping across my leg in content. "I'll take that as you like it."

Dad's chuckle echoes through the empty store. "Y/N, you know he's just a cat, right? Not an art critic."

"He may be a cat, but he's not just  _any_  cat. I've told you, Dad, Murph is magical." I tease and stroke him between his ears. "Isn't that right, bud?" Murph just meows in confirmation, and I turn back to my Dad with a laugh.

It's been a long running joke that Murphy is more than just a normal cat. Mostly because as a little kid I was convinced he was a wizard in disguise, and he's been alive since before I was born. It's silly, but Murph is pretty much a best friend to me—well, more like the one I talk to about everything because he can't judge me or share secrets.

My attention is drawn from the purring cat in my lap by a loud crack, and I instinctively look up to see the ATM vestibule across the street being broken into by a group of men with cheap halloween Avenger masks with weapons in hand. "Dad!" I shout and run behind the counter to his side.

"Go in the back and stay out of sight. I'm calling the police." He tells me with fear flashing in his eyes as he pushes and grabs the phone. My fingers shake and curl around Murph's fur in a desperate attempt to calm myself down. All I can hear is my Dad's muffled voice and the crashing noises echoing from across the street. He marches in a moment later, phone still pressed to his ear as he pulls me into his chest. "It's gonna be fine, sweetie. Police are on their way."

Something in my gut still twists though. I don't know what to do. It's like I can't remember how to breathe. My whole body can't stop shaking beneath my dad's tight embrace, and I have to keep myself from pushing him off to breathe because I know he needs the comfort more than I do. It's clear he's just as terrified as I am.

I mean, this is New York. Things happen all the time, but it always feels so distant and foreign until it's literally right across the street with guns. Unsurprisingly, that little fact makes all of it  _very_  real.

There are a series of clashes, snaps, and thumps that echo and send a series of tremors through me. My dad's arms instinctively clutch me even tighter to him as we both wonder how this will end.

An eerie purple glow fills the room growing progressively brighter with an ear-ringing noise. Murph scrambles from my arms, and Dad knocks me to the ground mere seconds before the destruction hits.

It's all a blaze of heat, smoke, and panic. A shelf topples over and drops the entirety of its contents—some flaming— directly on top of me. I shriek as I shove them off and attempt to orientate myself in the midst of the haze.

My feet are glued to down. I'm too terrified to step in any direction for fear of going further into danger. "Dad?" I repeatedly call out between coughs and search for any sign of him. And with every quiet second that ticks by, I only grow more panicked. "Dad?!"

A mixture of clatters and muffled shouts make it to my ears, and I take a bold step toward the source without thinking. Although, the sudden movement makes me realize a few things—most of which is the pain. Flurries and patches on my arms and legs that threaten to topple me if not for the adrenaline.

"Dad?" I call again and blindly stumble through the dark, hazy bodega to where I heard voices a moment before.

"It's okay," a familiar voice says and a pair of arms scoop me up into the mystery person's chest. "It's okay, Y/N. I got you."

Something about their voice stands out amidst the swirling, panic-muddled thoughts. But it slips right past me as we make it out into the lit street, where my dad is watching anxiously with Murph in his arms. He lets out a deep sigh of relief at the sight of me safely in the arms of—what the heck.

Spiderman, who I am only now able to see clearly. It's also now that I can see the slightly-greyed colors against the dull world. The lenses of his mask squint in concern. "Are you alright?" He questions with such tenderness.

It's only natural for him to be worried. I'm a smoke-scented, shocked mess trembling in his arms. But I can't seem to find the words—or anything at all really. My brain is playing catch up and lets nothing out.

Sirens wail in the distance, and Spiderman quickly sets me down with my dad there to hold me up. "I-I'm sorry, but I have to go." He stutters and turns away.

"Wait!" I yell and stumble after him despite the sway in my step and the pain now shooting through my body. His strong hands catch me before I fall too far, and my fingers wrap around his wrists as I use him to keep myself upright. "I know who you are to me." I whisper with more strength and confidence than I feel.

It takes him a second, but it's clear he understands when the lenses of his mask widen as he stutters, "I-I—um—well—"

My voice hastily cuts him off as I hear the sirens nearly on us and know he needs to leave soon. "It's complicated, I know." I glance over my shoulder to make sure my dad isn't watching and lean closer to Spiderman. "I'll leave my window unlocked for the next few days. Just in case you want to talk and try to help uncomplicated things."

I'm not sure what I expect him to do, but it doesn't keep my heart from dropping as he leaves. The cops and medics arrive just seconds after him. My eyes still watch the now empty spot where just a second ago he was a momentary streak of colors before leaving nothing but grey in his wake.

Police officers and paramedics chatter and ask questions as they guide me and my dad away to be tended to. I absently answer every inquiry and watch emptily as they work to put out the fire. The issue is, my mind isn't here. It's tangled up in the webs of a certain hero as I wonder if he'll actually come—or if any of this is even real.

It's two hours of the process. Cops taking our statements, medics checking up on us and patching us up, and the firefighters assessing the damage. My dad refuses to leave my side the entire time, but I don't mind.

I just want to go home.

My mom practically tackles us in joy when we walk through the door—bandaged, but fine. Her fingers brush through my hair as she speaks so quickly in Spanish, I can barely catch a syllable of her rant.

Luckily, Dad calms her down enough for me to escape to my room. I set Murph down and let out a deep sigh. All I want right now is to get rid of the smoke stench and collapse into bed.

But, of course, I don't get the chance.

There's a tapping at my window, much like how I assume Poe discussed in the Raven. And I halfway wonder if I'm going crazy too after today. Maybe I'm just hallucinating the noise, because it stops for a long second before persisting.

I slowly walk over to the window, fairly certain I know what's making the noise. After all, my bedroom is on the fifth floor with no fire escape or way to access it. The curtains pull back with ease beneath my fingers and confirm my suspicion. There's no way to access it unless you're Spiderman.

He quietly slips inside without the slightest sound as I crack open the window. I would be lying if I didn't say it wasn't a little impressive and startling how easily he seems to do it. Just like with earlier, there's seem to be a natural ease to what he does. Even when he was carrying me, it's like I weighed nothing to him.

I snap out of my thoughts when he turns to me, and we are only a foot apart. It feels so strange. I'm so close to someone who is supposed to be my perfect match, yet there's nothing but curiosity and intrigue. "So—" He starts, clearly as nervous as I am right now.

"Where do you suggest we start," I pause and take another long look at the brighter colors of his suit compared to the limited, dulled versions elsewhere, "soulmate?"


	31. colors pt.3

I rest my chin on my knees as I watch him. It’s difficult. Because as much as I try to listen to his words and follow his story, I’m lost in the emotional battle that rages through my chest. Comfort vs distrust. Affection vs anxiety. Interest vs instinct.

It’s been nearly a week of these last night meetings, and each time we know a little more about the other. With each night, I get a little more color and comfort around him. Yet I still can’t quite put a label to what I feel for him, except for one thing—interest.

He starts to laugh in the middle of the story, and the sound makes the colors brighten right alongside my mood. It brings my full attention back to him—my superhero soulmate—as he continues, “and so she just starts smacking me with her giant purse thinking I’m a mugger or something—me, the friendly neighborhood Spiderman!”

I place a still bandaged hand over my mouth to stifle my own bubbling laughter. “Maybe she was thrown off by the spandex? Not that I’m complaining though.” I tease with a shy grin, still perpetually nervous at the new territory of relationships and flirting in general.

“Don’t laugh! I think she left bruises,” he retorts through the laughter, and his voice goes quiet as he whispers, “and you can’t deny you like the suit.”

I meet his gaze as best as I can through the lenses of his mask and shrug. “It’s okay, I guess. I’m just more interested in the guy underneath, whoever he may be.”

A charged silence settles between us. It’s a topic we’ve never quite discussed yet—his identity. “I don’t know,” he finally mumbles and avoids my eyes. “You might not like who you find when you get to know him outside the suit.”

I let out a sigh and incredulously shake my head at him as I try to piece together my words. Without a thought or hesitation, I move next to him and gently rest a hand on his cheek. “Well, suit or no suit, I kind of like the guy I’ve gotten to know so far.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, and I prepare myself for whatever he’s about to say. Sometimes I wonder if he’s just here to voice my own doubts back to me. “Sorry, I guess I’m just nervous.”

“And you think I’m not?” I reply with a nervous laugh, “I mean, I’m new to  _ all _ of this. Not to mention everyone I know has already met their soulmates, and it just feels like a lot of pressure.”

I pause and take a deep breath and avoid looking at him as I’m overcome with pointless embarrassment. He interrupts  before I can say much else, his voice soft and tender as he says, “—and I’m terrified that I’ll be the one who doesn’t work out. Not all soulmates do, you know? And what if that’s us?”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth taking a chance. There’s no use at all in being scared of something that  _ may _ happen without at least taking a chance on it in the first place. We deserve to try this. Especially if it means we have a chance at finding the happiness that comes with your soulmate.”

I turn back to look at him and find myself reaching for his gloved hand and interlacing our fingers in a burst of confidence. It’s obvious that he’s uncertain from the slumped shoulders and body languages cues I’ve picked up on this past week of meetings. “Look, I’m not gonna pressure you or anything, and I certainly don’t want to make you tell me who you are if you aren’t ready. So, I want you to know that I’ll wait until you are. I’ll stick around so we can get to know each other, and hopefully one day, you’ll be comfortable enough to tell me one day.”

“You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?” He questions with a soft laugh that makes the colors brighten in a way that makes my heart swell.

“Just one thing of the many things you’ll come to know and love about me.” I smile and lean my head on his shoulder. “And you better get used to it, Spidey, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.”

…

_ Peter’s POV _

The moment she says those words, I swear, the world grows a bit fuzzy, and I’m thankful that I have gloves on so she can’t feel the clamminess she’s caused on them or the shaking from the nerves that make them shake especially at her touch.

It’s only been a week, and I am way beyond whipped by her. I find it hard to get her out of my head and constantly look forward to when I get to spend time with her like this. Just her and I as we sit in her room and talk about anything and everything we can think of.

Her hand is still bandaged up from where she got burnt last week, and I remind myself not to put too much pressure on it so I won’t hurt her. My thumb rubs over the back of her hand as we sit together in complete silence, and I can’t help but admire her.

She’s radiant and unique in more than just appearance. Yes, she’s gorgeous even with her hair in a messy bun and no makeup up on. She’s also the kind of person that you only meet once in your life and admire forever. Which is why I’m so terrified to tell her who I am.

What if something happened to her? What if I lost her like May lost Ben? All because I told her who I was and put her in harm’s way. It terrifies me to even imagine losing the person supposedly made for me.

I look around for something—anything to help distract me from the thoughts before Y/N can notice the change in my mood. Immediately, my eyes find her many sketches, drawings, and paintings she has hung up and scattered around her room. It’s a different experience every time I see them, because I always notice something new from the added colors.

“Since I’m fairly certain it’s my turn, I get to ask you a question that I have in mind. How did you become an artist if you can’t—you know—see colors?” I ask her as I spot her open sketchbook with today’s fresh ideas hastily scrawled down in the blue pencil she’s started using constantly since we met. I remember how she told me it was going to be her favorite because it was the one she saw first. 

Something in her changes the moment the words leave my lips, and she shrugs as she almost barely squeezes my hand. “I don’t really know. It’s just how it always was. I would draw stuff because it made me happy. So I kept doing it despite the obvious obstacle.”

There’s a blunt tone in her voice that tells me not to push it any further. So, I don’t. I let her be and wonder if it’s something that maybe she’ll tell me later. “My turn, Spidey.” She continues with forced excitement to her voice

I only halfway listen and answer her questions as we continue on for the rest of the night until I have to leave so she can sleep for her grand return to school tomorrow. She props open the window and gives me that soft smile she gave me the first time we met—the same one that makes me freeze. “Goodnight, soulmate.”

The nickname makes me stop. It’s a common thing between us now, but I can’t get over it. She—Y/N Delmar, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, is my soulmate. “Sleep well, soulmate.” I reply with a beaming smile that she can’t see beneath the mask before I climb out the window and head home. All the while, my heart is racing with lingering nerves, and a stupid smile is plastered on my face.

I climb back into my room and change out of my suit like always. All the while I keep getting the same feeling—the same urge to tell her the truth. I grab my phone and open up her contact that she put in a few days ago. “Hey, soulmate. I don’t really know how to say this, but I want to meet.” I type out, but before I can get enough nerve to send it, I delete the whole thing.  _ Maybe another day. _ I tell myself.


	32. colors pt.4

"Hi, Dad." I call to my dad as I enter the rubble of our little shop, which still makes my heart clench in my chest. He stands in the midst of it all, fully assessing the damage now that the fire department cleared it for entry. Tears brim in both of our eyes as we take it all in—the destruction to the place that has practically been a second home to me for as long as I can remember. "Is it salvageable?"

He nods as he drags a hand over his face. "Yeah, it is, but it's going to take a while, mija. We might have to start cutting back on a few things."

"And I can start selling my paintings again." I offer as I take one of his large, calloused hands in my own. "It won't be much, but I want to help."

"Bless you, Y/N, but you shouldn't worry about these things." He tells me, and I brush him off with the reminder that I'll worry no matter what, which makes him chuckle. "Do you mind helping your old man clean up a bit?"

"Not all all." I smile and take the broom from the corner and use it to clear away the ashes, chunks of random debris, and other objects. All the while, my mind drifts. I start to think about Spiderman, our conversations, who he might be, and the question he asked me last night. It puzzles me how much it bothered me to give my usual answer to the question.

But no one has ever understood why I'm an artist if I can't see the colors that make up my work. Nor do they know about all the ridicule I got for it, the advice to find something else, and the amount of self-doubt I dealt with for so long.

I stop sweeping for a minute and sigh as I watch people passing by. Dull colored clothing on dull people as they pass by to continue living an average dull life. Only the still-faded colors peek through, but the world is still mostly grey.

Except the one spot of color.

My heart falters in my chest as I notice the bright color on the rooftop across the corner where Spiderman is sitting on a fire escape with his legs swinging back and forth like a little kid. I smile and wave towards him, which he eagerly returns before looking down.

A split second later, my phone buzzes in my pocket. On the screen is a contact that I have become all to familiar with from the many hours I've typed out texts to it that were never sent, but this time, it's from him. "I wanna meet you. For real this time."

I force myself to contain the giddy, ultimate fangirl level excitement that rises in my chest at the words. My finger still tremble as I attempt to type out a reply without dropping my phone. "And when do you want to have this little meeting, Spidey?"

"How about in an hour at that little coffee shop you're always talking about?"

I bite my lip to keep from squealing as I glance back up at him. He waits patiently, but I can feel him watching me and image he's just as nervous as I am. "I'll see you then, soulmate. ;)"

It's obvious when he reads the text and that he forgot I was able to see him judging by his fist pumping in the air with his phone tightly clutched in his hand. Then it seems to hit him all at once, and he offers me a small wave before tapping his wrist as a non-verbal reminder. As if I could possibly forget.

"Hey, Dad, I forgot that I'm supposed to meet my friend in an hour." I call to my Dad, who emerges from the back with a sad look on his face, but it quickly morphs into a smile at the comment of me spending time with friends. "I'm just gonna go home and change."

"Okay, mija. Just don't forget to let me and your mom know when you'll be back." He tells me with a wide grin as he takes the broom from me and practically ushers me out the door. "Go have a good time with your friends."

I give him a hasty hug and thanks before rushing home in the hopes of cleaning up and finding a halfway decent. Because, yeah, I've met my soulmate before, and he's seen me when I was a complete mess. But this is the first time we'll be meeting as us.

It only takes a few minutes after arriving home before my room is completely trashed. My clothes are thrown around the room like a scene from a teen movie, and I'm looking through them hastily. Not because I'm searching for the perfect outfit, which I totally had in mind before Spidey mentioned a meeting.

Nope, I'm looking for my signature lipstick.

"Quit giving me that look, Murph! We both know I can't go anywhere—much less my first meeting with my soulmate—without it." I tell my cat who is staring lazily from my bed. He meows as I scramble around to keep searching. "Seriously, Murph, what am I—?" 

My voice drops off as I notice it—my signature lipstick—right next to Murphy, who swings his tail around contentedly. "How did you find this, bud?" I ask him as I scratch him between the ears and apply the color to my lips. 

"Wish me luck." I shout to the otherwise empty apartment and lock it behind me. Shoes tapping against the concrete as I hastily rush off to meet my soulmate for real this time. I weave my way through the people rushing home from work or school.

I can't keep from bouncing on my feet as I wait in line. A part of me seems to be trapped in constant motion. My eyes keep darting back to the door every time the bell rings, always looking for that one spot of color.

Half an hour passes, nothing. Forty-five minutes total, still nothing.

Each minute that ticks by, I feel a little more discouraged and lose a little more hope. My head fills with questions and thoughts of not being good enough. What if he decided that he didn't like or trust me enough to actually show up? What if something happened to him when he was on patrol?

It's a fast-paced downward spiral. One that is hastily interrupted by the presence of someone standing across the table from me. It's a boy about my age, who lacks most of the color that everyone else does. "Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but are you Y/N Delmar?"

I nod, still disappointed that he hasn't shown up. "Yeah, that's me. Is there something I can help you with?"

The boy nods ands slides into the seat across from me. "We actually have a mutual friend in the neighborhood, if you know what I mean." I nod in understanding that he's got to be one of Spidey's friends outside the suit. "He actually asked me to come since he's running a little bit late then he thought, but he is coming." There's a soft smile that stretches across his face that eases my nerves.

"Thank goodness, I was getting worried he wasn't coming." I tell him with a sigh of relief and extend my hand, "I should introduce myself properly. I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you too," he returns, "I'm Ned."

We stay there for a long while as we both wait for our 'mutual friend' to arrive. Luckily, Ned is a sweet guy, and we hit it off pretty well. It helps me to forget it for a while and stop looking at the door. Well, I stop looking until Ned smiles down at his phone and excuses himself.

That's when I see him. A bright spot of color against the world of muted hues and shades of grey. There's a nervous smile on his features that I'm sure is mirrored on my own, and I would be a complete liar if I didn't say he wasn't handsome. The curly hair that he's clearly tried to tame, the eyes that I can't tell the color of but still hold me captive, and the fingers that keep fidgeting as he sits down.

"Hi," I whisper as I release a deep breath. "It's nice to finally meet you, soulmate."

"Peter." He tells me with a smile that sends my heart and head scrambling. "I'm Peter Parker, and it's nice to finally meet you too."

I can wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the night as we sit there passing the hours like they were nothing. With each change in topic and bit of information we learn about each other, I realize something important. I only ever liked Spiderman, but I know somewhere beyond myself that Peter Parker will be the one I love.


	33. colors pt.5

It's been a few months since the meeting as we've started to refer to it. We've become practically attached at the hip since then, and despite everyone knowing we've met our soulmate, we're still keeping the other a sort-of-secret from our families.

"Everyone's okay though, right? They all made it out safely?" I ask Peter after he finishes telling me the events of his decathlon trip to DC he used to chase down a criminal a few weeks ago. "Including yourself?"

"Yeah, but—" He tries to argue from his place resting on my lap, "—but it could have gone wrong. People could have gotten hurt or—"

"But they didn't." I reassure him as I gently run my fingers through his hair. "No one got hurt, and you still have a lead on where they're getting supplies. I call that a win in my book." He sighs and I continue to reassure him, "I mean, what you did was amazing, and I couldn't possibly be more proud of you. Because no matter what happens, you're always doing your best to help people. It's just one of the many reasons we're soulmates."

"How is it you always know how to make me feel better?" Peter asks with a small smile on his face as his gloved finger traces the pattern of my leggings. 

"Because it's my job as your soulmate and girlfriend to always remind you how amazing you really are." I tell him as I admire his features. Perfect brown hair with the natural curls I love so much, brown eyes that seem to see right through me, his crooked nose from the times he told me he broke it, and the lips I find myself daydreaming of kissing. "Especially in times like this when you seem to forget."

Peter sits up on the bed a soft, bittersweet smile on his face. "So, I've been meaning to ask you this, and you can say 'no' if you don't actually want to come. It's—it's just I was wondering—that is would you like to—" His cheeks turn red as he stumbles over his words, which I let him navigate through instead of interrupting, "—you know what I'm just gonna say it. Y/N Delmar, would you go to homecoming with me?"

A blush coats my own cheeks. "Is Peter Parker really asking me to Homecoming?" I tease and take his hand in mine. "Because if he is, I will gladly accept."

"Really?!" He shouts before realizing it and lowering his voice. "I mean, really? You—you wanna come to homecoming with me?"

"Of course, I would! Why wouldn't I?" I smile at him and relish in the way his eyes are all lit up with joy, but there's a bit of apprehension lingering there. It breaks my heart to see the doubt he has that I could really care about him. My palm rests on his cheek as I try to find the words to ease his fears. "You know I don't care if people think you're a nerd or whatever. I like you for who you are—the smart, kind, caring Peter Parker that I get to call my soulmate."

He shakes his head with a dopey grin on his face, and I almost think he's going to kiss me by the way he leans in ever so slightly. "I-I should probably get going. I have a—um—big Spanish test in the morning." He whispers just a few inches away from me.

"O-okay." I whisper back still lost in the haziness that comes with us being so close. It takes me a moment to come back to my senses and pull back. "Don't forget to call me if you can't stop by?" He nods and slips on his mask. In a moment of bravery, I lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek. "Goodnight, Peter."

"Good—goodnight, Y/N." He stutters before slipping out the window and sneaking off into the night. Meanwhile, I shut and lock the window after him before collapsing on my bed. My fingers brush against my lips as I imagine what it would be like to kiss Peter Parker and how cute he looks when he's nervous or confused or happy or talking about what happened on patrol. The mere thought of him sends my heart hammering in my chest and a feeling of joy to overwhelm me.

And that's when it hits me. I think I'm truly in love with Peter Parker.

...

I bite my lip as I pace my room and stare at my halfway finished painting. It's a flurry of colors, and the meaning of it is clear. Two figures stand facing each other with wide eyes full of the one emotion I can't stop ignoring anymore. Because when I look at the figures, I see Peter and myself. Eyes full of the love I feel for him and hope he returns.

It's been plaguing my mind ever since the night he asked me to homecoming. Things have been developing since then—mostly my feelings and Peter's investigation. He seems to think that they're also the people that destroyed my Dad's deli and that they're selling their weapons on the street. And the leads he's gotten only seem to drive him further and occupy every ounce of his free time.

I wipe my hands of paint and check my phone for the millionth time. Only to find nothing—complete radio silence since the vague message about busting a meeting between the criminals. Why? Because one thing I've learned Peter is determined, and especially since it seems no one else is going to do anything about it. 

My finger hovers over the call button. Somehow, I'm convinced my fears will be eased only by the sound of his voice. There's a thousand ways this could go wrong, and I just want to know he's okay right now.

I think over it for a second because calling him in the middle of something could cause more trouble than help, but I'm still desperate for any form of assurance. Although, I don't actually need to think it over for long before I'm interrupted by my phone buzzing in my hand. Peter's picture flashes up on my screen. 

The phone nearly drops from my hand as I scramble to answer it. "Oh my gosh, thank goodness. Peter? Are you okay?" There's only silence on the other end, and my heart threatens to shatter in my chest. "Peter? Are you there? Please, say something."

"Y/N?" His voice calls out, filled with heartbreak and pain that I've never heard from him before.

"Peter? Where are you, I'm coming over right now." I scramble for my shoes and tug on my jacket as I speak, already halfway out the door. "I promise you it will be okay. Just tell me where you are, and I'll be there."

"Home," is the only words he manages to say, but it's all I need. Lucky for me, Peter decided to introduce me to his Aunt May a week and a half ago. So I know exactly where to tell the cab driver to go.

I talk to Peter the whole way, even if he doesn't reply. I trust that even my simple reassurances are better than silence right now. Especially cause I have no idea what happened, and my heart is on the verge of breaking every time I hear him sniffle or cry.

The moment we pull up in front of his building, I toss the driver the money and rush up as quickly as I can until I'm banging on his front door. His neighbors probably think I'm some sort of maniac or something, but I couldn't care less. All I care about is making sure he's okay.

Aunt May appears in the doorway with a worried expression, but her expression softens when she notices me and my utterly disheveled look. "He's in his room, sweetie." Her voice is soft and gentle as she lets me inside. "I hope you can help him. He's not doing well right now."

I nod, halfway listening as I still have most of my focus on helping Peter. "What happened?"

"He didn't say much, just that he lost the Stark Internship."

It takes a second for it to click. The Stark Internship—Spiderman. He lost being Spiderman? It sends a million questions through my brain, but I push them aside as I thank May and run off to his room. I find him sitting on his bed, hair dripping wet as he stares at the floor. "Pete?" I question as I step inside.

His eyes are rimmed in red and skin all blotchy. "Y/N?" He asks tenderly, and I rush toward him without a second thought before wrapping him in my arms, dissolving into tears right alongside him. We hold onto each other, and I wait for him to tell me what happened himself. "I—I lost it, Y/N. Mr. Stark took my suit."

"Why would he take your suit?"

"Because I messed up. A lot of people almost got hurt today because I messed up." He hangs his head, as a fresh set of tears build in his eyes. "I'm not Spiderman anymore."

"Pete," I whisper with a sigh as I pull away to look in his eyes, "you don't need to have a fancy suit to be Spiderman."

"Yes, I do." He argues and tugs at the roots of his hair as he speaks. "It's just—I don't—Spiderman is all I've had, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do without that." He sighs.

"You be Peter Parker." I tell him decisively. "You know, you once asked me why I was an artist if I couldn't see color, and I'm finally gonna tell you the truth of why."

I take a deep breath as I sit on the bed next to him. "My whole life, people have tried to tell me what I can and can't be. Teachers would tell my parents to encourage me to focus on science, math, English, and anything without color. They claimed it would be a precaution in case it took awhile for it to change or I never met and connected with my soulmate. But, you and I both know I suck at math."

The comment earns a half-hearted chuckle from Peter, and I relish in the small accomplishment. My head rests on his shoulder as he softly speaks, "Yeah, you're really awful at Math."

"No need to bully me, Parker." I tease before continuing, "Anyway, I never understood why people tried to tell me to add or multiply instead of letting me draw, and me being the stubborn person I am, I ignored them and kept going. One time, my cousin was visiting, and he brought me this huge box of crayons.

"At first, I cried thinking it was some cruel joke like I constantly got from the kids at school, but then he told me why he brought them. You see, my cousin has synesthesia, which makes him hear colors. So, we sat down in our living room with his beat up stereo, crayons scattered across the floor, and music blaring while he showed me how colors connected to other things.

"He helped me find confidence in what I already was. I learned how to make beautiful art without having to have the colors. Because I already was an artist. I didn't need colors or people to confirm it. It's just who I am." I turn to Peter and place a hand on his cheek so he'll look at me, "Just like how you're Spiderman. No fancy suit or billionaire mentor required. It's who you are."

For a second, I'm convinced he gets it, that maybe—just maybe—I got through to him. He brushes my hand aside and shakes his head as he paces the floor and tugs at his hair. "No, I'm not. I need that suit to be Spiderman. I need it to be someone, to actually have something real."

I swear at that statement, everything shatters. I know he's hurt, but he seems so convinced of what he said, I can't image in him believing it to be anything less than truth. "You really think that?" My eyes water up more than before as I look at my broken soulmate. 

My voice fills with a bitterness to hide the pain I'm feeling. "Peter Parker, you are everything without that suit. You are still the same guy who went out to help people, my soulmate, the genius who aces every quiz and test without studying. Your life still has so much in it. You have people who love you and would do anything for you; people who would run over here at a moment's notice just to make sure you're okay.

"But, I guess none of that matters, right? Since you're supposedly nothing without your precious Spiderman suit. It wouldn't matter that you have your Aunt May who would give the world for you. It wouldn't matter that I love you as Peter Parker. I mean, yeah, it's cool that you're Spiderman too, but it's not why I fell in love with you."

Peter gives me a look that I can't decipher. "You love me?"

"Yeah, I do," I stand up and back away from him, "but if you really belief half of what you said, you're not the Peter I fell in love with. Because the Peter Parker I fell in love with wouldn't have let this stop him."

"Wait, Y/N!" Peter calls as I walk out the door, but I brush him off. "Please, just—"

"Just what, Peter? You made it very clear how you feel, and I'm doing the same." I tell him with teary eyes. "Look, I think we both need some time right now. Call me when you're my Peter again, and if you don't think that will be anytime soon, feel free to find a new Homecoming date." 

I swear the words cut me deeper than they ever could hurt him, but right now, I see no other solutions that don't end in my prolonged heartbreak, with me staying by him as he repeatedly breaks my heart. So for now, I just need a bit of distance until we both come back to our senses.

At least, that's what I tell myself as I leave Peter Parker in the middle of his apartment and return to a world dimmed by our combined somber moods.


	34. colors pt.6

"Mija, sweetie," my mom calls from just outside my door in that soft tone she reserves specifically for when I'm upset, "there's someone here to see you."

I bury my head in the pillow to hide the tears—because I know it's not him. Well, if it is, I would be monumentally surprised after the nearly three weeks of complete silence between us. Not that I can blame him, I was a little—okay quite—harsh that night.

"Hey, Y/N," Ned calls as he steps inside my room tentatively as if he expects me to snap at any second. "I just—I thought I'd come by and see if you wanted to hang out."

I prop my chin on the pillow I have scrunched to my chest and tangle my fingers in Murph's fur. "I told you, Ned. I'm fine." There's a long span of silence before I whisper, "Plus, shouldn't you be getting ready for tonight? I'd hate for you to miss Homecoming because of me."

"I'm not gonna miss it." He retorts and steps forward so he can sit on the foot of my bed. "And I may not be your friend, but I know you're not fine."

"We are too friends, Ned." I manage as tears reappear in my eyes in what seems like a constant loop, "And what makes you so certain I'm not okay?"

"Because you're crying—and because Peter's the exact same way."

"He is?"

"Yep. It's actually hard to decide which one of you has been more upset." He pauses and looks over to my closet where my mom hung my dress out as an incentive to change my mind and go. "He told me that he wishes it was you instead of Liz. In his words, 'it doesn't feel right going without her now.'"

"Yeah, well, it's a two way street." I complain as I release the pillow and sit up next to Ned. "I keep going to call him, but then I just keep hearing what he said. He acted like I was nothing unless he was you-know, like that's the only reason I would be with him. It just hurt so bad, Ned."

The tears stream down my face as Murph climbs into my lap for comfort and Ned offers his support. "I know, Y/N, and he regrets what he said too. Maybe, just—try to give him a chance to explain and make it up to you?"

I nod, not quite trusting my voice to hold up any longer. "Yeah, I plan on it. I just—need a bit."

Ned stays for a little while to help distract me from everything, which I appreciate. He's been operating as the mediator between Peter and I trying to get us to make up, but he's clearly had no success so far judging by the fact that he's probably picking Liz up any minute and I'm still in sweats and a messy bun.

Thoughts of what was supposed to and what will be collide in my head. Images of Peter and I dancing are taken over by him and Liz. It makes me sick to my stomach and snaps me back to my senses. I love Peter Parker; so why am I sitting here being stubborn instead of making things right? Answer: because sometimes I'm a stupid person.

I slip on my dress and force my hair into a semi-decent updo. My signature lipstick pops alongside the matching color of my dress and the lack of most makeup. But I can't bring myself to care. I just want—no need—to make things right and see Peter. "Wish me luck, Murph!" I cheer as I press a kiss to his head, which he lets out a loud meow in reply that I take as encouragement.

My parents smile at me from the living room couch when they see my outfit, and I swear, I've never seen them look that happy for me to go out late before. Ned quickly sends me the address and a string of happy, celebration emojis. It makes me smile, but does nothing for my crazy nerves as I make my way to Midtown, my heels and heart in hand.

The entire way, my mind drifts to Peter. Will he still be mad at me? What if he won't listen? What if he isn't even there? Or if he realizes the girl he brought is so much better than me? I have to push them away and force deep breaths as I stand outside the entrance.

Chaperones hover at the door, checking dresses and tickets in the small amount of light pouring through from inside. I swear to myself knowing they likely won't buy any lie I would tell them. So, I move to Plan B.

The back of the school feels like a scene straight from some creepy film. Empty buses bathed in the eerie glow of the street lamps, and a silence that echoes right down to your bones. It traces a shiver up my spin as my eyes hastily search for a way inside.

A charging sound breaks the silence as a bright light appears in one of empty buses. "You can't hide, Spiderman." Someone shouts, but all that catches my attention is the name he called—Spiderman. 

It makes me freeze right away. There's only one person who is known as or could be Spiderman. My mind scrambles for an answer, but I only come up with one conclusion—Peter's back to being a hero. 

The moment of excitement is gone when the back of a bus is blown off. I bite back a scream as I scramble out of sight. My heart thunders in my chest as I look for a way out of this giant mess. All I hear are shouts and the charging sound for the first few moments.

"Sorry, kid, it's nothing personal." The stranger says as the charging noise happens again, and I take a second to peer around the corner to the bus. Peter stands there in his old suit, which was basically just a hoodie and dyed jeans and cut off gloves. His hands are lifted in the air, sans web-shooters, and eyes wide in terror.

Suddenly, I seem to realize the full extent of fear. My heels and phone feel like lead weights in my hands. Everything in my head feels foggy. There's still a voice that screams for me to do something—anything.

So, I do the first thing that comes to mind. I set my phone on the ground and clench a heel in each hand. Neither of them have noticed my presence just yet, but that quickly changes when I throw my heel like a fastball at the back of the dude's head.

It hits the back of his head with a thunk and clatters against the concrete. Immediately, everyone reacts at once—the stranger holding his head as he turns to me and calls me some less than desirable names, Peter who is also lunging at me to get me out of the way, and me, being a total idiot, as I launch myself at the criminal with the other heel raised and looking like a character in a dorky action movie.

I get a few good hits on the guy, which makes blood dribble down his forehead, but he ultimately gets a tight grip on my wrist and holds his crazy weapon towards me as he taunts Peter. "You really shouldn't have gotten involved, girlie." He whispers to me, but his eyes remain locked on Peter in a death stare. "Now, I get to hurt him even more than before." The static and buzzing of his weapon echoes in my ears, and I mentally prepare myself for what's about to come next. 

Except, it never does.

"What the—" 

I look down at my feet to see—"Murph?" Sure enough, my cat is purring as he rubs his head against Peter's leg. The weapon drops from next to my head as the dude tries to figure out what's happening. I take full advantage of the opportunity and kick his shin as hard as I possibly can until he releases me and I stumble over into Peter's arm.

There's not really a way to explain what happens next. At least, not in a string of words that would probably make a whole lot of sense. Murph rounds on the criminal, who is just now recovering from my kick, and lets out a loud meow. "Oh, this is it. I'm gonna—" His words are cut off by his own shouts.

Murphy's jaw slackens, and the sight I thought I had made up as a child reappears right in front of me. Tentacles creep out of his mouth and grab a tight hold of the man's body before yanking him forward and making his weapon shatter on the ground. Peter protectively holds onto my arms, but it's obvious to me he's still scared out of his mind.

I, on the other hand, take a deep breath and round on my lifelong pet. Peter does his best to keep me back, but one look and he understands that I know what I'm doing. "Murph, spit the bad man out." He just stares back at me and lets out an unhappy mew. "I mean it. Spit. Him. Out. Right now."

That's all it takes for Murph to sound like he's coughing up a fur ball and the tentacles to deposit the now saliva covered criminal on the ground, where he lays staring up at the sky with wide eyes. "We should probably take care of him." I mumble to no one in particular.

"How are you so calm right now? You're cat just ate someone!" Peter shouts at me, and I avoid looking at him now that the danger and my courage have faded.

"Yeah, I'm fairly certain he does that more than I think." I look back at my cat and sigh. "It's probably why all my stuff just disappears and things I never bought just show up."

Peter's hands wrap around my shoulder and spin me to look at him. "What were you thinking, Y/N? You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"Honestly? I wasn't thinking about that in the moment." I stare down at my hands as my voice drops to a whisper. "I just—I saw you in danger and reacted. Because I don't want to lose you either. Especially if I didn't get to say how sorry I am for what I said."

He lets out a heavy sigh with his eyes tightly closed and rests his forehead against my own. "There's no need to apologize. You were just being honest." His brown eyes meet mine, and I see the same emotions that have been overtaking me reflected in his irises. "I have to go. Vulture is gonna do something big."

I shake my head and step back with a soft smile. "Then this can certainly wait. Go save the day, Spiderman. Just be sure you come back to me."

"I always will," He chimes as he collects his web-shooters from the ground. A quick smile stretches across his face before he runs off and calls over his shoulder, "Get inside, find Ned, and stay safe."

"I always will." I whisper back, even though he certainly won't hear me.

...

"He's gonna be okay, right?" I ask Ned as we're ushered back into the gym after getting caught in the computer lab. 

"I hope so." Ned answers before realizing that does absolutely nothing to quell my fears. "I mean, if anyone can do this—it's Peter."

"Yeah." I mumble as I nervously fidget with my fingers. Ned seems more worried about me than anything right now, so I try to lighten the mood. "Also, 'we're watching porn'? You really couldn't come up with a better lie?" I tease and nudge his shoulder. "No, 'we were making out,' or 'playing Skyrim'?"

Ned lets out a laugh and shakes his head, "I'm sorry! I panicked. I'm not exactly experienced with improv or lying."

"Never change that, Ned." I tell him with a laugh over the loud, thumping music pouring from the gym. "So—are we actually going in there?"

"Nah, I can take you home if you want." He offers, and I eagerly agree, ready to just curl up with my weird cat and wait for my superhero boyfriend... 

Yeah, life is definitely not normal anymore. Not that I mind, I mean, my soulmate is the best person I've ever known and just happens to go out and save people every night. I couldn't be more proud. And at the end of the day, all that matter is that he comes home safely. Because he has to come back.

I keep it like a mantra in my head. He's safe. He'll come back. I mentally repeat it as Ned takes me home, as I give my parents a quick lie about what happened, as I take off the makeup and dress, and as I settle down on my bed staring between my phone and window waiting for any sign of him. The minutes drag by far deliver a torture far worse than any traditional methods. My head is throbbing, and tears keep lingering just at the edges of my eyes.

There's a quick knock on my window, and I nearly launch Murphy from my lap as I scramble to open the window. Peter offers me a weak smile as he leans against the now open window frame. I don't think as I throw my arms around his shoulders and bury my face in the crook of his neck. "You came back." I whisper through the now flowing tears. "I was so worried you wouldn't."

His fingers run through my hair in the most comforting way as he whispers back, "I told you, I'll always come back." I pull away with a sad smile and immediately tug him inside so that I can help him clean and patch up. "You're cute when you're worried—and every other time too." Peter tells me as I rub the dirt off his face.

I roll my eyes at the comment. "You're not too bad yourself, Parker." My voice is light and teasing, but it quickly drops as I remember everything that's happened recently. "I never really got the chance to apologize, and I know, you said there's no need for me to." My words quickly dissolve into rambling as I continue on the speech I've been mentally developing all night. "It's just—I still shouldn't have been so harsh on you. But I really do love you and—"

The rest of the speech is lost as Peter gently takes hold of my wrists, which were previously flailing around in the air as I spoke. A gently grin tugs at the corners of his lips, eyes sparkling as he says, "Y/N Delmar, take a breath." 

"I am, but I just—"

"—Nope. Let me say something first, please." He sighs and tugs me forwards so that my palms are against his chest and our faces are only an inch apart. My eyes search his for any clue on if he's about to do what I think he is, but all I see is the glimmer in those beautiful irises that makes my head spin. "I have something I need to tell you first. Well—tell you and do, before I lose my chance." He takes a deep breath and runs a thumb over my cheekbone as he says the words I've waited to hear, "Y/N Delmar, I love you too. I love you more than being Spiderman, more than I love science or Star Wars, and more than you love the colors."

I don't get a chance to disrupt him or even utter a syllable before his lips are on mine. In the stories, everyone always talks about it being like fireworks, but not for me. For me, it's an explosion of colors. Every hue and shade I've ever imagined is displayed on the backs of my eyelids. But I already know which ones my favorite.

We pull apart and try to catch our breaths with foreheads pressed together and goofy smiles etched on our features. "You know, you're wrong about one thing." I whisper against his lips. "I don't care about any of the colors except my favorite."

"And which one is that?" He asks as he seems to study my eyes.

"My favorite color is you. I could lose all of them and be fine as long as I had you."


	35. colors pt. 7

_Years later_

The water swirls with a new shade of purple from my now clean brush. I set it aside and close the studio door behind me as I leave with a yawn.

Noises echo from the kitchen, which makes me smile lightly as I peek around the corner to see the familiar sight I've grown accustomed to these past few months. Peter is looking through the fridge for the dinner I leave out while still in his Spiderman suit. As always, he's probably too tired, hungry, or distracted to take it off yet.

"Well, looks like I need to upgrade the security because someone keeps raiding our fridge." I tease and wrap my arm around Peter's waist. My eyes glance over at the clock. 11:42 PM. "Wow, you're home early tonight."

Peter hums in confirmation as he sticks the takeout container in the microwave before facing me. His arms wrap around my waist as he presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. "Yeah, it was quiet tonight. So, I thought I'd come home early. We haven't seen much of each other this week, and I missed you."

I sigh and rest my head against his chest. My eyes close as I relish the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of of being back in his arms. "Mhm. It's been crazy. Downside of being a superhero and growing artist while also students, I suppose." I pause and look up at him. "Not that I'm complaining though. Those are good things to be."

"Yeah, it's definitely not all bad."

"So—" I draw out the syllable as I hop on the counter and swing my legs, "—catch me up on everything." Peter chuckles and shakes his head at my childish demeanor. Still, he doesn't hesitate to tell me every detail of what's happened recently as he eats.

I can't help but smile as I halfway listen. My thoughts drift back tot he past few years and how we got here. It certainly wasn't always easy. We had more than our fair share of fights—especially before we moved in together three months ago.

Because, before then, we were both busy college students with work, classes, and various obligations. We rarely saw or had time for each other. At least now, we can always have small moments like sleeping and waking up next to each other or things likes this.

There have been plenty of beautiful moments too. Waking up to find Peter still out cold and getting to wake him up with kisses or breakfast in bed. Making time once a week—or two if things are crazy—to still have a date night together. Talking way late into the night like this about everything we want to do together in the future.

My heart warms as he tells men everything about his classes, work, and what happened on patrol. I swear, he still makes me melt just like when we were in high school. Peter still makes the colors brighten and dance with every laugh and kiss.

I didn't think it was possible to love someone more him more than I already did, but it happened. In the space between the grand romantic gestures and perfect dates, I became wholly in love with Peter Parker in the ordinary moments, and I can't help but want this forever.

"Let's get married." I say without hesitation or second thought as I interrupt Peter mid-story. He nearly drops his fork in shock at the words. "Look, I know it sounds crazy, but why not? I love you more than anything. We're almost done with college, my dad has already been bugging you about it, and I don't want to wait any longer. I just—"

Peter cuts me off in the same way he usually does when I'm rambling, and he wants to quiet me in a sweet way. He kisses me. The colors immediately reappear and dance at his touch. "I wanna marry you too." He whispers against my lips before letting out a long sigh. My eyebrows scrunch in confusion as I watch him open a drawer and pull out a folded towel. "It's just—that was supposed to be my statement to you."

My brain takes a second to catch on, but the moment he unfolds the towel to reveal a delicate velvet box; it all clicks. All air seems to knock out of my lungs as Peter gently opens the box. "You see, I was gonna do this next week on a special date I had planned, but I don't want to wait either." He looks up at my teary eyes with a soft smile as he shows me the ring—which I easily recognize as the one Aunt May got when she married Ben. "Y/N Delmar, will you marry me?"

"Do you really think I could say 'no'?" I question through a teary laugh. "Yes, a million times." I whisper as I wrap my arms over his shoulders.

He beams like a child on Christmas as he slips the band onto my finger. "Aunt May insisted that you have hers. She said she wouldn't want anyone else to have it." Peter tells me as we both stare at it. His brown eyes meet mine with a glimmer as he presses a lingering kiss to my lips. "You know, this means we'll have to start planning a wedding alongside everything else now. Not that I mind though."

"I don't mind either." I brush my nose against his and rest our foreheads together. "It doesn't matter to me what the wedding is like. As long as you're the one I'm saying 'I do' too."

Peter laughs and shakes his head as his fingers trace a line up and down the side of my legs. "C'mon, be honest. What's your dream wedding look like."

I roll my eyes at him and hop off the counter. "Let's at least get ready for bed. You're probably exhausted, and we can still talk why you're at relaxing."

He reluctantly agrees and pesters me the entire way as I tug him along. "Okay, dream wedding—go."

I lay down in our bed as he changes from his suit and crawls in next to me. "I never really thought about it too much." I whisper honestly as I play with his fingers. "All I picture is something small with only our closest friends and family. Obviously we'd have to have Aunt May and Mr. Stark there for you. Ned could be your best man.

"We would find you something of Ben's to wear so it will be like he's still there with us. I know how much he meant to you, and I want him to be there with us in some way." I wipe Peter's eyes from the few tears that fall down his face, and he presses a feather light kiss to my hand as he does so. "That's what I care about. Not about the setting, my dress, or silly details. I just want us to be happy and together with the people we love."

"How is it you always seem to get more perfect every day?" Peter whispers and pulls me into his chest. "I love you, future Mrs. Parker."

"I love you too, future husband." I curl myself into his chest, warm and content. The exhaustion of the past week takes over fully as I lay in the comfort of Peter's arms. "I can't wait for our forever." I whisper before drifting off. The last thing I hear is the soft reply from Peter.

"No need, we're already here."

_A/N: Updates are going to be temporarily delayed while I'm finishing up my semester. (Yayyy. Except for finals) I'll try to make an announcement on my profile with when they'll resume. Until then, stay awesome. Xx_


	36. good times pt.1 {t.h.}

I don't recall ever truly meeting him. Sometimes I think we were just born as best friends, just like our mums, who had met in the early period of their marriages and became instant friends. That was always Tom and I—the best of friends.

It was the trademark childhood friendship. The kind where one of us would always beg for the other to come over for everything. We were the pair that everyone said would be friends forever, that would inevitably fall in love and end up together forever. We didn't believe that, but we thought that we would at least be friends forever.

I remember when we were kids. He had told me his grand dreams of being a famous actor. There was that glimmer in his eyes that he only got when he was enamored and serious about something. I remember sitting on the floor of his bedroom knowing he would do it one day. The boy could pluck the stars from the sky if he tried.

There was also the time when we were about seven. I had come home from school trying not to cry, and only my best friend was able to find out why I was so upset. The truth was William Bradson told me I was too ugly to ever be kissed. Of course, me being my sassy childhood self, I replied with, "it's not like anyone would want to kiss you either, Bad Breath Boy."

I never told anyone how much the comment hurt. All it took was one look and Tom knew. He understood how much a silly retort hurt me. I still remember how he reacted when I told him what happened. He grabbed my face and kissed me. It was both of our firsts, and our noses bumped together. Then he pulled away, told me I was so pretty that I was his first kiss, and went about the rest of the night like nothing happened.

My heart clenches in my chest as I remember how we parted. I was thirteen when my dad retired and decided that he wanted a change of pace. So, my life got packed up with barely any warning, and I spent a whole week trying to figure out how to say goodbye to the best friend—and first secret love—I ever had.

We sat outside my old house, both unsure of how to actually process that I was about to leave for what felt like forever. My head was on his shoulder, and I vividly remember trying not to cry. "I don't wanna go, Tom. What if we lose touch? You're my best friend, and I don't wanna lose you."

"You'll never lose me, Y/NN. And I could never forget you." He whispered and draped an arm over my shoulder. "I'm really gonna miss you. To be honest, I'm more worried you'll forget about me."

"I'll miss you too." I whisper back. "And there's literally no way possible I could forget my best friend. But you seriously think you'll remember me when you're all famous and a huge movie star?"

"I promise." Tom pulls away from me and offers a smile as he continues, "If you're worried though, I'll give you something for us to remember each other by." I don't get the chance to ask him anything before Tom leans forward and does the same thing he did when we were seven.

His lips pressed against mine in a kiss that makes my teenage head spin like a carousel. We pull away, and I bit my lips to suppress a smile. "I don't know. I think you might need a little more to remember me by." I told him before pulling him back in and pouring everything I have into it—all the emotions I don't quite understand, my fears, and the deep affection I hold for my best friend.

"Y/N!" My mother shouted with that trademark tone that screamed trouble. I immediately pulled away from Tom to find her with her hands on hips and foot tapping the pavement. "We have to get going. Now."

"Coming. Just give me one second, Mum." I called back before turning back to Tom. "I have to go. Bye, Tommy."

"Nope. Not bye, Y/N." Tom tells me as he pulled me into a tight hug. "It's just see you later."

I wiped away the tears as my parents called me away. My heart broke in my chest as the old house and Tom faded away from view.

Now, I'm here, phone in hand as I stare down at the familiar profile of my childhood best friend. "Oh my gosh. Just click follow and message him already!" My best friend shouts as she falls onto the couch next to me. "You've been cyberstalking him since we found him. You have to make a move before I go crazy."

"No, I'm not going to do it. He probably won't even remember me. It's been like nine years! He's famous and moved on by now." I tell her as I set my phone down with a sigh. "Anyway, I've gotta go get ready for my audition."

"Okay. Be all mopey for the next who-knows-how-long. Don't try to reconnect with the guy you've referred to as your 'first love' because you're scared." She shouts after me and rolls her eyes. "I still think it's a huge mistake. You should at least try."

"I'll try when I feel ready." I retort and remind myself she's just trying to help out. "Plus, I really need to focus right now. These auditions could really make or break me. I need a new project, F/N. Something to focus on."

"Well, you'll definitely have something to focus on after the auditions." She tells me with that cryptic yet happy smile as she hands me my bag. "Now, c'mon. We gotta leave now or we'll be late with traffic."

...

"So, how did it go?" F/N questions with a grin as she bounces on her feet.

I return her grin and try to keep my hopes contained. "I think it went well. I'm just going to try to not get too hopeful about it all just yet."

"Well, lucky for you—I have the perfect thing to keep your mind off of waiting for the call." She grins deviously as she passes me my phone. "Just remember, I'm your best friend, who you love and admire. The one who agreed to be your assistant and manager, who has always supported you all these years."

"F/N, what are you talking about?" I question, but it's all answered when I look down at the notifications clouding my phone screen. Amidst all the twitter notifications, reminders, texts, and various social media alerts. A group in particular stands out.

 

tomholland2013 followed you back.

tomholland2013 accepted your message request.

tomholland2013 sent you a message.

 

This is all a disaster. Everything about this is a giant disaster. I turn to F/N with wide eyes and try to non-verbally convey just how mad I am. "Like I said, remember all those great things about me! I just wanted you to finally take the leap. You've said it yourself you miss him and wish you could reconnect. I was just—trying to help with that."

"But this? This isn't how I wanted it to go." I tell her as I plop into the front seat of her car. There's a horrible throbbing in my head that falls in time with my ragged breathing. "I was going to go visit his family next week with my parents while they were in town."

"Why didn't you tell me all this before? I thought you were gonna chicken out for the next eternity!"

"Oh my gosh. What am I even supposed to say to him?" I question and press my fingers into my temples. "Wait, what did he even say?"

"Well, you should probably check then answer and see where it goes." She tells me with a sly wink, and I take a deep breath before unlocking my phone and opening the app.

Right in front of me is the message F/N sent, that actually sounds a whole lot like me. "Hey, Tom. I don't know if you'll see this or even remember me, but I hope you do. I know it's been like nine years since we last got to talk or see each other. Anyway, I thought maybe we could catch up sometime? I know you're probably crazy busy and stuff, but let me know?"

The reply from him is simple. "How could I forget you after that 'see you later'? And it would be great to catch up. I'll be back in London for a few weeks if you're in the area."

I suppress a laugh and bite my lip. "Actually, I moved back a while ago for work. I really missed London—along with a few other things."

His response comes faster than I could have expected, and I have to keep myself from thinking that maybe he was waiting for me to say something back. "Just admit it, Y/NN. You came back cause you missed more than the town. ;)"

"Still full of yourself as ever I see, Tommy." I reply. "Anyway, since you're back in town. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other soon."

"I definitely hope so." He replies, and we continue to chat on about anything and everything for the rest of the day. F/N doesn't stop teasing me about it the whole time, but I can't bring myself to care or wipe the giddy, childish smile off my face.


	37. good times pt.2

We both clutch our stomachs and double over in laughter. "Mrs. Hartman was such an odd bird, but she made for some great stories and friendships." I manage as Harry and I finally calm down. "I really missed hanging out with you like this."

"I did too." Harry replies with a smile, but it fades after a quick moment. "What happened to you? It was like you just disappeared when we were kids."

"Yeah. My parents claimed they needed a change of pace. I just—never really understood why."

"So—what brought you back?"

"I wanted to come to a good school, to pursue my dream, and to come back here. I missed it."

"Missed it? Or a very specific Holland?" Harry teases and sips his cup of tea with a smirk. My cheeks turn red, and I struggle to come up with a halfway decent rebuttal. "C'mon, Y/NN. I know you and my brother were like a childhood love story of best friends."

"It wasn't like that." I mumble into my tea. "We were just friends."

"You know—" Harry draws out the syllable as his smirk grows, "—Tom has been talking about you non-stop since you two reconnected."

I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from spewing hot tea everywhere. Harry laughs at my reaction, while I hastily gulp down my mouthful. "What? Harry, why did you have to say that! I swear, I've been doing really good about not freaking out yet. Now I'm getting all nervous and all sweaty again. What am I even supposed to say to him when we're talking face to face?"

Harry looks over my shoulder and offers a halfway sympathetic look. "Well, you're gonna have to figure that one out quickly."

I don't have long to figure out what he means before the front door opens up. My muscles instinctively tense up. Tessa immediately runs up to the two boys, who are chatting and joking happily. They—unlike me—are blissfully unaware of the situation ahead of us.

It's clear exactly when I get noticed, because the whole room goes dead silent. I squeeze my eyes shut and pray for myself to turn miraculously invisible. Unfortunately, Harry just has to 'help' out. "Hey, guys. Did you see who's here?"

I stand up from my seat on the plush couch and wipe my clammy palms on my jeans. It takes a moment for me to process exactly who is in front of me. My eyes focus on Harrison, knowing that one glance at Tom, and I'll be nothing but a stuttering mess. "Hi, guys." I whisper and barely a wave.

"Y/N?" Harrison cheers and runs toward me with arms extended for a hug. "It's been forever. Where have you been hiding out all these years?"

I can't help but hug back and smile into Harrison's shoulder as he sets me back down on my feet. "Well, my parents moved us up to Scotland, and I only recently came back for BRIT school and work."

Harrison beams with a happiness that makes me feel giddy myself. "Really? What did you study?"

"I studied acting and singing, and before you ask, yes, I do still dance. It's just more of a hobby though." I tell Harrison, who turns toward his best friend to see his reaction. Although, we find Tom staring at us with a blank, still shocked look on his features.

Those brown eyes that I adored so much when we were younger stare into mine with tears threatening to spill. All the memories and feelings from when we were kids come flooding back like a tidal wave. I guess over nine years and a whole country between us means nothing against one look from Tom. Because one look and I'm right back to caring for him deeper than I thought possible. "Hi, Tommy." I whisper.

"Hi, Y/NN." He whispers back, and I can faintly hear Harry and Harrison rushing out of the room to give us some privacy. We both remain completely still, unsure of how to act around each other after so long. "So—you're—um—you're really back in town?"

"Yeah, and you're back for a while too?" I question and shove my hands in my pocket to hide my nerves. "I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other then."

"Wait, are you the surprise guest my mum was talking about?" Tom asks suddenly very excited. I nod and smile at my childhood best friend and crush. It still warms my heart to see him so happy. "Wow. That's—that's awesome."

"Yeah, my parents are actually here too. They came down to visit, and your mum insisted I come to dinner too." I bite my lip and try to find a way to rebuild the bridge that feels long ago destroyed despite our online interactions. Things just feel so different in person. Or maybe I'm just less confident and more awkward in real life. "So, would you—um—maybe wanna get coffee sometime? Catch up and talk about stuff?"

Tom's smile fades a fraction, and I feel my stomach drop to the floor. I stutter and look for an excuse to backtrack my way out. Halfway to the door, a hand gently wraps around my wrist to stop me. "Don't go. I—I was just startled. Yes, I would love to go out with you." His eyes widen as the realization of what he said hits him. "I mean, I would like to catch up and spend time with you."

I smile and kiss his cheek. "It's okay, Tom. I would love to go out with you too. Harry has my number, so just text me whenever."

"Actually how about dinner tomorrow night?" He questions with his trademark grin. "We can go to that pizza place we loved as kids."

"It's a date." I grin and try not to blush. Still, the sight of Tom's bright red cheeks gives me enough courage to tease him a little before I leave. "See you then, darling."

...

I smooth down my pants and wonder if the outfit is too casual for what can technically be called a 'date.' My first date in almost forever with Tom. The thought sends my heart pounding. I've honestly been freaking out about this all day, trying to think over every detail of what could happen, wondering if the time and distance between us will be too much to recover from.

"Oh my gosh. I can't believe you're finally going out with him! Now aren't you glad I stole you're phone to text your long lost lover boy." My best friend calls from her spot lounging on our couch. "I'm still mad you didn't tell me about him sooner, by the way. It's like the cutest love story ever! Plus, he's a super famous actor. Heck, he's the Tom Holland."

"I have not been in love with him since we were kids!" I shout back as I nervously pace the living room. "And I never mentioned him or his fame for good reason! One, you would have never stopped bugging me to call him, and two, he's never been the Tom Holland. In my mind, he's always been the same guy I grew up with. The one that used to chase me around, climb trees, and get me into the worst trouble. He was one of my best friends before—" I pause and stare down at my scuffed sneakers, "—before my parents uprooted us and moved."

"You know you can talk about it with me, right? I know your parents can't hear any of this stuff without thinking they ruined your life, but you still need to talk about it all."

"It's not that." I collapse next to her with a sigh. "They didn't do anything wrong. It was just hard for me to restart. I had a life here—best friends, a school I loved, and happiness. When we left, it just hurt. Not to mention, I'm not the best at making new friends—besides you, that was a fluke."

"You're welcome." F/N teases and punches my shoulder. "Still, I want you to know I'm happy for you. You're going on a date for goodness sake! I mean it's—"

She's interrupted by a knock, and I stare at the door like a deer in the headlights. "Oh no, he's here. What if I mess up? What if I say something stupid or it's not the same as before?" I hyperventilate and keep wiping my palms on my pants.

F/N just offers me a small smile and whispers an encouragement as she passes to open the door. "Hi, you must be the infamous Tom that I heard so much about recently." Her voice echoes through the hallway. "Y/N, he's here."

I force a deep breath and join them at the front door. "Hey," I smile and feel some of the nerves fading away.

Tom let out a sigh and returns the smile. "Hi. You look—wow."

F/N clamps a hand over her mouth to hide her obvious giggle. "Okay, lovebirds. Enough with the heart eyes. Go on your date!" She shouts and shoves out the door.

Tom and I laugh as we make our way out and to the restaurant. The old place still has the same look, but much more worn around the edges. "I can't believe it's still around." I sigh and try to ignore the way our hands keep brushing together. It takes all my self control to not take it in my own. "It was always your favorite if I remember correctly."

"It was, but I stopped going after a while." He tells me with a soft voice, and I tilt my head at him curiously. "Kind of had a hard time going there after you moved."

"I get that." I whisper as we sit in the old booth. "Believe it or not, there's a list of things I couldn't do after I left. I never told anyone this—but I cried for days after we moved, then the first day of school, my first birthday away, and a few other times."

"Yeah, my mum was really worried about me. I didn't want to come out of my room for over a week. I just never understood why you left so suddenly and never said anything after you left."

"To be honest, it hurt too much, and I wasn't sure how." I sigh and fiddle with my fingers. "I didn't have a phone number, letters seemed to complicated, and my parents weren't fond of me using computers. Then with our whole unique goodbye, they weren't exactly jumping on board to help me reconnect. Not that I would have known what to say."

"Well, it's okay now." Tom smiles and reaches for my hand across the table. His fingertips brush over my knuckles. "I mean, we kind of got a second chance."

I turn my hand over and let him trace patterns over it before our hands link. "A second chance for what?"

Tom's face gets a little pale and his hand clammy as he avoids looking at me for a long moment. "A second chance to not let you go this time. I never told you—probably cause I never realized it until I saw you talking to Harry yesterday—but I really missed you. I care about you—in a highly romantic way."

A smile breaks across my face as I stare down at the table and bite my lip. "That's good. 'Cause I care about you in a highly romantic way too."

Tom's lips curve up into the widest smile I've ever seen. "I guess our mum's were right all those years ago. They always told us we would make a good pair and end up together one day." He slides out from his seat and places himself next to me. "Sorry, I just—I have to do this, for myself and old times' sake."

"Do what?" I question incredulously. Tom just shakes his head with a childish grin as he places an open palm on my cheek. My heart pounds in my chest as we lean closer. It's still nervous and awkward like the first time, but there's something different this time.

I smile against his lips before we pull away after a second. "Well, that was better than I remembered it." Tom laughs with his breath fanning against my lips.

"Yeah, it was." I reply with an airy laugh. "I think it helps that we're not kids anymore."

"Definitely." Tom agrees as his brown eyes search mine. "Can I still call you my girlfriend though? You know, for old times' sake."

"Sure." I giggle and press my forehead against his. "Except this time, it's not just for old times' sake."


	38. good times pt.3

_Months later:_

I sigh and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. I've endured months of strength and fight training for the biggest role I've ever had. After Tom had to leave with Harrison for filming, I had a meeting with the casting agents to get all the details. Turns out, I'm the newest addition to the Marvel superheroes and get to be featured in the next Spiderman film.

The big catch? Tom and most of the cast has no clue.

My phone rings with the same ringtone that happens everyday like clockwork. I can't hide the smile that dances across my features at the sight of Tom's contact on my screen. "Hey, babe." I cheer and prop the phone between my shoulder and ear as I grab my things. "How's filming going? Miss me too much yet?"

"I'm always missing you too much." He retorts happily. "And to answer the first question, filming is going great. Exhausting, but great. Any updates on your super-secret project?"

"Actually, yes. I'm leaving for filming soon, which is very exciting. It will be nice to have all this training and work used for something after so long." I sigh and bite my lip to keep from spilling the secret. "I really hope the schedules work out so we can see each other soon. Three months feels like an eternity."

"Especially after nine years apart." Tom adds on with a heavy sigh. "Don't worry, love. We'll find a way to see each other soon. I'm so sorry to cut this short, but I have to be back on set. I love you."

"Love you too, Tom." I sigh and toss my phone in my bag. Despite the work, every day has seemed to drag by in anticipation of getting on set and seeing Tom again. Now, it's finally here. Marvel is ready for me to join production and give Tom the surprise of his life.

"Oh my gosh. Your costume is probably the best thing I've ever seen." F/N cheer as we both look over the epic costume created for me. "Obsidian is a total badass."

"She really is." I agree before the nerves start to resettle. "And I just got super nauseated again at the realization that this is really happening."

"Don't worry, Y/NN. I'm sure F/N, Tom, and I have enough faith in you to suffice." Harrison teases, and I immediately bound towards him in excitement. "It's great to see you too. Tom is going to lose his mind when he finds out though."

"I'm looking forward to it." I laugh and bounce on my feet. "Still, this is just so crazy."

"Miss L/N, you're needed on set." A production assistant informs me and breaks up the conversation. I give them a quick thank you before turning back to my friends. They both offer me encouragements and smiles as we sneak off for the grand surprise.

By the time we get there, filming is just about to start, which means everyone is rushing about to get the last minute details prepped for the scene. I'm reminded of my lines and the events of the scene before I'm ushered out of sight for the grand reveal.

I watch as the underground scene starts with Tom dressed up as Peter Parker. My heart races as my cue inches closer with every second. Jake delivers his line, and I take a deep breath before rounding the corner and smirking beneath a half mask to 'Fury.' "Sorry, I'm late, but you know me, boss. I can't refuse a chance to make a good entrance."

"It's fine. I'm just glad you decided to show up." Fury complains as he shakes his head at me. "Obsidian, you already know Mysterio, but there's someone else I'd like you to meet. He's new so play nice. That is Spiderman."

I turn towards Tom and make sure to stay in character. "No need for introductions with this one. We already know each other." I smile at Fury as I take off the mask with a smirk. "Long time no see, Peter Parker."

Tom's mouth drops in shock at the sight of me. Whether from surprise at seeing me or he's just playing up his character's reaction. "Wait—Clara? Is that really you?"

"In the flesh." I tease. "Although, most people call me 'Obsidian' these days, but I guess I'm not the only one that changed—Spiderman." Tom continues to stare at me with wide, shocked eyes as we continue with the rest of the short scene.

"Cut." The director calls, and the moment he does, I turn back to Tom.

"Surprise?" I ask him as he still looks at me with that unbelieving look. He doesn't say anything for a long moment before he runs over to me and lifts me up. "I'm taking this as you're happy to see me?"

"Happy doesn't quite describe it." He tells me between heavy breaths and kisses my nose. "So this was the big job you got? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Yes, and I couldn't! Marvel asked me to not say anything since my character is supposed to be a bit of a secret until the release. I wasn't allowed to tell anyone about it. Plus, I definitely wasn't going to give up an opportunity to surprise you like this." I press my lips against his and instinctively melt under his touch. "I missed you so much."

"You have no idea how much I've missed you too." Tom lets out a deep sigh and wraps an arm around my waist as we clear out for the next scene to be prepped. "I have to introduce you to everyone! Don't worry—no one will say anything publicly about us dating, but they'll all be so excited to meet you."

"And I'm excited to meet them. We will be working together for a while after all." I beam and get excited all over again as I relay the details of my new job to Tom—from the appearance in this film, to the  _possible_  romance between our characters inspired by our personal history, and the chance for me to have a solo film. "It's just so crazy. I never thought something like this would happen. Best part is—they didn't even know our history until  _after_  I got the part, which means I never have to question if our relationship affected their decision."

"See? I always knew that anyone who saw you perform would love you. Now, you have proof of that." He smiles and kisses my temple before tugging me along. "There's the group. C'mon, you've gotta meet everyone."

The rest of the usual cast cheers and greets Tom with smile, bro hugs, and fist bumps. I force myself not to shrink or hide at the misfit feeling of being next to the well-known stars. "Oh my gosh, you must be Y/N. Tom literally hasn't shut up about you since we got here." Jacob smiles and pulls me into a hug. "It's nice to finally meet the infamous childhood friend turned girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you too. Tom is always talking about how awesome you all are and how much he loves working with you." I gush and fidget with my fingers. Tom seems to notice and takes my hand in his to relieve my nerves. The feeling of him tracing patterns over my knuckles helps to ease the rising anxiety in my chest.

"Not gonna brag, but she's actually the newest Marvel superhero." Tom states with pride to the group, and I playfully smack his chest. "What? Can't I be a proud boyfriend."

"Yes, but not if it means embarrassing me." I sass and turn back to the group. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you all now that I'm joining the Marvel team, which is still so hard to believe."

"Well, from what we've seen and heard, it's not a surprise." Zendaya encourages. "And it's always nice to have another girl join us."

We all chat for a little while until we're split up for filming and such, but each of us makes a promise to hang out again soon and get to know each other. I end up sticking with Tom since he's scheduled to be done soon and can spend the rest of the day together.

"So, just a heads up, this might be a bit awkward." Tom warns me with hands on my shoulders. "It's a romance scene. If you want to go hang out with Harrison, that's fine. I just don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"I'll be fine. I know it's just part of our job, and you're just friends with Z." Tom doesn't seem convinced. Especially with my crossed arms and shifting feet. "Seriously, don't worry about me, babe. Just go."

Tom is hesitant at first, but in the end, he quickly pecks my lips and goes for his scene. It is honestly so much worse than I thought. Because while my head and heart both know that Tom is nothing more than friends with Zendaya, it hurts to see them acting all romantic.

Although, all tension and worry is lost after the 'grand kiss scene' ends and Tom pulls away with an odd look on his face. "Is it just me or was that the most awkward thing ever? Also, what did you steal from the craft table?"

"I agree. It's like kissing my brother, and I grabbed a cookie." Zendaya agrees and shakes her head. "Makes no sense why people think we're a couple or could ever be. Don't worry, Y/N, he's  _all_  yours."

"That I am." Tom chimes in with a beaming smile. "So, how about dinner, my love?"

"Sounds perfect. I'm looking forward to making up for lost time."

"Me too, darling, me too. Because one thing I learned after years apart is to make every moment with you matter."


	39. good times pt.4

I tug the blankets closer to my chin. My phone keeps buzzing on the nightstand, and I hastily shut it off. Ever since the big announcement, people have been bombarding me with their opinions—the good, bad, and horrendously hateful. I've been hiding away in my room since the hate started and unable to handle the paparazzi screaming in my face about the 'Tomdaya rumors' and possible 'publicity stunt of our relationship.'

"Love, please, just talk to me." Tom asks as he gently tugs at the top of the covers. "I brought your favorite snacks. The exact kind we used to make ourselves sick on before dinner. You told me you couldn't eat them after the move because of the memories. I thought we could eat them and talk for a while."

"I don't wanna talk." I manage to complain through the building tears. "I'm so sick of people talking—about me, about my career, about our relationship. So can we, please, just not talk for a little bit?"

"Of course, darling." Tom whispers and tugs the covers down to climb in next to me. His arms wrap around my waist as he presses a kiss to my shoulder. "Just know I'm here when you're ready to talk again."

I wipe my eyes and turn to face my caring boyfriend. "Marvel called. They're not sure if they're going to keep my contract with the things people are saying about me. The worst part is—I can't blame them. With the things people are saying, I'm starting to believe it myself."

Tom immediately springs into action at the comment, and he brushes away the tears as they build in his own eyes. "No, don't you ever believe those things. You are the most amazing person, Y/N, the love of my life, the woman I would give up everything for to see happy, and the woman I see myself settling down with in the future. Please, don't let silly people try to convince you that you're anything but those things."

"It's just so hard, Tom. What am I supposed to do? I can't say anything without becoming an even bigger monster. Everyone thinks of me as this gold-digging fiend, and there's nothing I can do about it." I sigh and rest my head on his chest. "They can't ruin this though. No one can change my mind on that. I love you, Thomas Stanley Holland."

"And I love you, Y/F/N." Tom presses a long kiss to my forehead. "How about we hang out with the gang tonight? No talking about that stuff, just spending time with people that care about us."

"I'd like that. Let me just put some shoes on." Tom just smiles in victory as I climb out of bed for the first time in a while. But, it's a victory in itself considering the state I've been in. Even if it's in sweatpants and one of Tom's sweatshirts that's too big on me. It's not like our friends will care that much if at all.

We get to the room to find the whole gang already assembled. They all cheer and greet us with smiles. Zendaya, Haz, and Jacob all approach me and immediately wrap me up in a hug. "Thanks, guys. I'm sorry I've been so—yeah."

"It's okay, hon. We understand. Now, let's just have some fun tonight." Z grins and drags me into the sitting room. The company is enough to make me temporarily forget my blues as the night drags on in a blur. I barely notice when I start to dose off in Tom's grip for the first bit of rest I've had in a while.

When I wake up, it's in my own room with Tom's arm draped over my waist. It brings a smile to my face that feels long overdue. I let out a sigh and wonder how I got so lucky to have him back in my life—especially as my boyfriend. Even with everything, Tom has still made sure I'm okay, supported, comforted, and been a best friend to me.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I screw my eyes shut and pray it's just a dream. But it buzzes again to confirm my worst nightmare. I reach over and peek at the screen. A sigh escapes me when I find a text from F/N and remember Tom altered my social media notifications for me.

"I know you've been avoiding any and all social media, but you NEED to check insta. You have the coolest friends ever—besides me of course." The text reads, and it takes me a long minute to process in my current daze.

I pull up the social media app that I have been avoiding like the bubonic plague. Except, now there's no floods of comments after I turned them all off. My inbox is still overflowing—likely with a mix of hate and support from strangers. I don't bother to look at any of it.

Instead, I scroll through and find what I assume F/N was talking about. There's a post from each of our friends with the same photo at different angles. It's me lying in Tom's arms fast asleep while he looks at me like I strung up the whole universe. The glimmer in his eyes makes me fall in love with him a hundred times over.

Then I read the captions. Outpouring words of love and support for our relationship. Calls to stop the hate and affirm that our relationship is entirely genuine. They even comment on how much Tom and I care for each other. My heart warms at how wonderful these people I've come to know are.

I can barely hold in the tears at it. My emotions just bubble over at the stark contrast between the action and the past few week. It's a rare moment that I feel good—happy even. The feeling floods through me like a tsunami.

Arms wrap around me and whisper tender reassurances. "Hey, what's wrong, love?" Tom questions as I finally stop crying. His gaze turns to my phone where he sees the posts, and it all clicks. "You're not mad. Are you?"

"No, I'm so happy." I tell him and lean against his shoulder. "I never thought that people could care so much. I never expected to be loved by anyone like this—not by you or the rest of our friends. It's just so much more than I deserve."

"It's not." Tom reassures and presses a lingering kiss to my temple. "You deserve every good thing in this world, and I'm so glad you're finally getting some of it."

I shake my head, internally denying it, but I know there's no arguing with him on this. So, I just accept the compliment. Tom beams at the small victory, which makes my own smile grow immensely. "So, what do you want to do today?"

"I have an idea, but only if you're up for it." Tom tells me with worry lingering in his. eyes. "I was thinking we could do a livestream? Clear the air for ourselves."

"Are you sure? What if it turns nasty like everything else?" I nervously fiddle with my fingers as I try to weigh the pros and cons. "But, if you think it's a good idea, then we'll do it."

"I think it could be." Tom reassures me and takes my hand in his. "Plus, I'll be there with you the whole time. If it gets too bad, you have me right there and we can end it right away.

"Okay."

"Let's get it set up then." He presses a quick kiss to my lips before we head into the sitting room of the latest hotel. Tom's phone is propped up against a random vase, and we wrap ourselves up in blankets and sit close together for optimal comfort as he starts the livestream. "Hey, everyone. As you can see, I'm here with my amazing girlfriend and my favorite human being, Y/N."

I give a meek wave and try not to read too many of the comments streaming in. "So, there's been a lot of talk about our relationship, which is part of the reason we're doing this livestream together. There's some things that definitely needed to be cleared up. Mostly the nasty comments people have been giving her.

"Just to clarify, this relationship is most certainly not fake. Most people don't know this, but Y/N and I have been best friends since we were little kids. She moved away, and when we finally reconnected, we just picked up where we left off and started dating."

I spot a couple comments of people discussing how cute our story is, but there's still people calling me names and accusing me of using Tom for fame. It sends a ripple of anger through me. After everything, some people just won't give up, and I'm not about to either. Tom seems to notice to because he rubs gentle circles into my lower back as he continues. "She's honestly the best thing that's happened to me."

"And for those of you that keep saying these nasty things about me. I think it's time everyone knew the truth. Marvel had no idea about my relationship or connection to Tom when I auditioned. In fact, they didn't know until right before I went to filming. I didn't tell anyone beside my best friend."

"It's true. Everyone at Marvel had told me about this amazing actress they were adding to the team. It wasn't until a few weeks later that Y/N surprised me on set." Tom lets a proud smile cross his face. "If anyone is using the other, it would be me using her as an excuse to constantly brag and have an extra reason to post on social media.

"So, please, stop insulting Y/N. Like I tell her every single day, she is the most amazing person I have ever known. There's no one kinder, more loving, honest, talented, beautiful, and a million other things on this earth. She's the one that I see myself with in five—ten years. The one I want to marry, spend my life and have kids with, and become an old, wrinkly man. I love her more than I ever thought possible."

I turn to Tom with wide eyes. We never actually talked about these things. In my mind, it's always been assumed. Tom has  _always_  been the one I pictured with myself with when I got older—even in those years apart. But hearing the words come from him is so different. "You really mean that?"

Tom turns to me and tugs me closer by the hand now wrapped around my waist. "I really do, and nothing or no one will ever change that. Like I always told you, it's you and I forever."

"You and I forever." I echo back and press a gentle kiss to his lips. "That's something I wouldn't trade for anything in the universe. I love you, Tom Holland."

"And I love you, my darling Y/N." Tom whispers quietly back. Lips brushing mine with every syllable. Then, we both seem to remember the still going livestream. Both our cheeks turn crimson, and Tom stutters as he tries to end it. "Well—um—Bye, everyone."

"Do you think that will help?" I question after a long moment of silence. "Actually, I don't care. Either way, I know neither of us are giving up on this, and we did everything we could. That's all that matters—along with the fact that I really love you."

"You're right. That's all that really matters in this situation."


	40. beyond the lights pt.1 {p.p.}

_Peter's POV_

"C'mon, Peter, you need to have fun. You're a teenager. It's high school. You're supposed to be out there having fun and making new friends." Aunt May tells me as I pick at my dinner. "Just try to join another club. That's all I'm asking. I just want to see you be happy again."

I let out a sigh. Aunt May has been bugging me about finding something to do after school. She keeps asking me about the different options and pestering me about joining. "I think I might have something in mind." I pipe up without much thought, and the smile she gives me makes me realize how much this means to her.

"Really? What is it?"

"Well, I was thinking—maybe—I could try for a part in the drama club's play?" I tell her, but it ends up as more of a question than a statement. May's smile widens as she happily chatters about how excited she is and peppers me with questions. I try to pay attention, but my mind is still adrift.

"So—" May drags out the sound and bounces in her chair, "—what made you choose Drama Club?"

My hands go clammy, and the blood drains from my face. One particular face comes to mind, but I can't tell May that I chose Drama Club because of the girl I have a crush on. I mean, she's not the only reason. And maybe that's a lie.

"No reason." I mumble and finish my dinner. Still, I can't stop thinking about Y/N, the shy girl who shocked everyone in her first performance at Midtown. She's the one who endures more bullying than I do and is still kind. And despite what everyone calls her—robot, zombie—I still think she's one of the most amazing people I've met, even with our limited conversations.

So yeah, I'm gonna audition this week as a chance to get to know Y/N better. 'Cause if I can face down criminals on a daily basis, this should be nothing. Right?

...

I was so wrong. This is way more terrifying than a bunch of criminals. But there she sits, towards the middle of the auditorium on the end of the row like she always does. Her hair is falling in her face, knee bouncing as she anxiously reads through the audition piece she was telling me about in Bio.

"Hey, do you mind if I sit here?" I whisper to Y/N and motion to the seat next to her. She looks up at me with wide eyes in shock before nodding her head. "So which part are you auditioning for?"

She smiles softly at me and leans closer so we can hear each other easier without getting into trouble. "Daya, the main characters cousin. What about you? You're here to audition, right?"

I shake my head as I try to process what she just said. "Yeah, I'm auditioning, but—" I take a moment to sort through my thoughts, "—but you're not going for the main part?"

Her cheeks twinge pink, and she avoids looking at me. "No, I—I couldn't do that. They would never want me for her character. I'm not talented enough for it."

"Are you kidding me, Y/N? You could totally be the lead. They would be crazy not to give you the part. You're crazy talented and perfect for it." I tell her, but she only shakes her head and locks her gaze back on her audition form. "How about this then? If you agree to audition for Elysia, then I'll audition for the male lead, Tom."

"Wait, you would really do that? Just to get me to go for the lead?" She questions once again meeting my eye, and it takes me a moment to realize that she's stopped bouncing her knee or shaking like before. "Why?"

"Because—" I struggle to come up with an excuse that won't sound creepy, "—because you deserve to at least take a shot at what you deserve—which is the lead role. So yeah, if it means putting myself outside my comfort zone to do it, I will."

Y/N nods and bites her lip. I wait for her to say something—or anything really—but she stays completely silent. Instead, she grabs a pencil from her bag and erases something from her sheet. A split second later, she takes mine from me and scribbles something in her beautifully messy writing.

I peek over at them when she's finished. It's the standard audition form. Name, classification, free time, the role we're auditioning for, and a few more things. My eyes immediately take in the way she writes her name. How even her writing is seems so neat despite the rush she writes with. 

Then I see what she changed.

The original pencil marks linger like a ghost, but clearly written over is 'Elysia' the female lead, and on mine, Thomas, the male lead. "I'll take that as a yes."

She bites her lip and smiles with a shrug. "I was actually gonna ask—if you want—I have a piece that uses two people. Would you want to audition together?"

I can't hide the smile that creeps across my face as she hands me the paper with the audition piece. We sit side by side after we turn in our sheets and read over the lines while we wait for our names to be called.

"On stage, Cara Teagan. On deck, Peter Parker." The director calls from her table in the back, and I give Y/N an encouraging smile as we move to the waiting spot.

She starts to shake and twitch again. I almost take her hand but think better of it since she'd probably just think it was weird. "Don't worry, you've got this. Plus, I'll be there the whole time."

"Thank you, Peter." Y/N whispers and gives me a smile that makes me nervous. My name is called, and her hand twitches as if maybe she was considering grabbing mine. Her lips twitch upward as we face the director, her voice nothing more than a small whisper as she encourages me. "We've got this."

...

_Y/N's POV_

"Okay. Can I get Y/N to read for Elysia and Peter Parker to read for Thomas?" Our director and one of my best friends calls from her prime spot. "Start on page three with their first meeting. Remember there needs to be this sort of instant connection between the two of them. So I really need to see that here."

I nervously make my way on stage and stand next to an eerily calm Peter Parker, who I usually only can catch glimpses of in and between classes or decathlon meetings. We only really started talking earlier in the semester for a Chemistry project and more recently after auditions. The thing is, no one really knows that I've had a crush on him since I came to this school last year. It makes me nervous to be this close to him, especially in the place I'm always so confident.

The stage is my safe space. It's the place that I get to be someone other than me—whom I'm not exactly fond of. On stage, I get to not hate myself for a little while. No one understands how I got so good at acting, but I can never tell them the truth. For me, acting is easy because it's another form of pretending, which I've been doing longer than I can remember and so long it's easy as breathing.

Yet, right now, it feel like my AP Chem homework. My hands shake as I hold the script and read the lines as best as I can. It's hard not to watch Peter as we read the lines. There's a natural ease to him as he reads the lines and hints at the character.

I smile and counter with my lines at each turn. Out of the corner of my eye, I see F/N smiling like a child in a candy shop as she leans down in her chair. My hands shake at the mere thought of being cast alongside Peter. "Thank you!" F/N calls, and her voice turns fuzzy in my head as Peter and I smile at each other before handing the scripts off to the next pairing.

"So—um—how do you think it went?" I ask Peter as I nervously twist my shirt in my hands. Not just because of the nerves from callbacks. It's still so strange to be talking, laughing, and spending time with Peter. I've never been confident enough to say more than a few sentences to him at a time before I make some excuse to leave.

"I think—and don't tell the others—but she would be crazy not to cast you." I bite my lip to suppress a smile. "But if it helps, we can hang out until the list is posted to distract you?"

"You would willingly spend time with me?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

The question makes me falter. Mostly because there's a hundred reasons that he shouldn't want to spend time with me. The same reasons that I wouldn't want to be around myself. All the reasons that no one else has ever liked me. I'm zombie—robot—vulcan—freak—you name it, I've heard it. "No reason, I just wasn't really expecting it."

"Well, get used to it. Because if we get cast, we'll be spending quite a bit of time together." Peter smiles and nudges me with his shoulder. The director calls the end of the callbacks, and I swing my bag over my shoulder. Peter hands me my water bottle and gives me a nervous grin. "So, would you wanna go get some coffee or something?"

I falter mid-step and turn back to him. A part of me wants nothing more than to jump at the offer, but another wonders if I'll say something wrong or be too—well, me. Because, I don't know who that person is anymore, much less if I even want to show Peter that side of me.

Instead, I plaster on one of my classic fake-happy smiles. "Yeah, I would really like that." I tell him and try to remind myself that Peter is nice. Maybe he wouldn't hate the real me as much as I do. Who knows, maybe he might actually like the real me—whoever that is.


	41. beyond the lights pt.2

"Peter!" I call as I enter our shared chemistry class a fact that I value far more then I should. In all honestly, I barely know Peter Parker, but I still have the world's biggest crush on him. This past week has only made the feeling grow exponentially. We've talked more than we ever have before since he showed up at auditions. Then after callbacks, it was like we started getting brave and confident enough to talk to each other.

He looks up from his homework, the goggles making his eyes look huge. It makes me have to bite back a laugh, but the excitement bubbling in my chest makes me forget everything else in a split second. "The list got posted." I breathe out, still horrendously nervous.

"Wait, really?" Peter breathes out and scrambles for his phone, but I already have mine ready for him. "You got the lead?!" He cheers and looks up at me with that smile that makes me genuinely smile in return.

"Yes, but keep reading!"

"Hold on, I got the lead?" Peter's jaw slackens and his lips move like a fish. "What—but how?"

"I talked to Miss Tillman because I couldn't believe that she would actually want me to be the lead. So I asked her, and she told me that we worked so well together it wasn't even a decision for her. Apparently, we were in her top choices and pairing since we auditioned!" I gush to Peter and bounce on my feet, far too excited to sit down. "I swear, my head is still spinning."

"I told you that you were beyond good enough to get the lead! I'm mostly surprised I got a role at all." Peter whispers and double checks the list again. "So, do you know when rehearsals start?"

"After school today. It's another thing Miss Tillman wanted me to pass on to help her narrow down her list. It's nothing to stress over. The first rehearsal is usually a get the script, meeting the cast, and a few bonding exercises if she's feeling like it." I bite my lip and set my books on the table next to Peter's. "So, I guess you won't have a choice about spending time with me now, huh?"

Peter's lips twitch upward into a smile, but I can't quite meet his eye. "Yeah. Not that I mind though." He pauses, and I swear my heart stole Thor's hammer to it hammer itself out of my ribcage right now. "In fact, if you want, maybe we could hang out this weekend and run lines?"

I look up from my fidgeting hands to find Peter already watching me with hope and growing disappointment brewing in those wondrous brown eyes. It makes my heart falter as it tries to decide whether to lift or fall. "Y-yeah, I would really like that."

"A-awesome," he chuckles nervously and shakes his head. "Maybe we could exchange numbers? That way we can figure out stuff, or if you ever want to hang out, or—or anything really. You—we could just talk and—and—"

I place my hadn't over his tentatively and smile widely at him. "That would be great. Here's my number, and feel free to text me whenever—for whatever."

We exchange our phones and type in our number. "Um, by the way, would you like to—"

"Alright, class, pass up your homework and get your gear on for today's lab." The teacher calls and unknowingly cuts Peter off before he can finish his sentence. I try to catch his attention to finish what he was going to say, but he just shakes his head and passes me the goggles. So, I do what I always do—I plaster on a forced grin and ignore the wonder and hurt.

...

"Okay, everyone. Gather around." Miss Tillman calls and claps her hands together. "It's time to start getting to know each other. We have our leads, Y/N and Peter who play our star-crossed lovers Elysia and Thomas. Michelle is playing Daya." I zone out as she continues to rattle through the casting list.

It only takes a minute before everyone is chatting and getting to know each other. I sit in the middle of it all. No one notices that I don't talk. They all remain oblivious so long as I keep forcing a smile and laughing at the right times. I feel completely out of place here.

The only time I feel like a part of anything is when we're rehearsing, but most times it's like being an outsider in my own body just with no way to connect. I try to talk, but then there's the inevitable 'polite' nods and annoyed smiles. So, I remain quiet and disconnected from everyone else as they bond.

Luckily, Miss Tillman cuts the rehearsal short. "Hey, Peter. I was wondering if—um—if you wanted to hang out and go through the script?" I ask my crush nervously as we all pack up our things and scripts. "Plus, I have these really cool highlighters."

"How could I say no to cool highlighters?" He laughs and slides his backpack on. "We can go to my apartment if that cool with you?"

"Yeah. That sounds great! I'll just give my folks the heads up." I cheer and send my parents a quick text to let them know I'll be late and spending time with a friend. They immediately send back  a string of happy texts excited to see that I'm actually making friends and doing something other than rehearsals, homework, or spending time with them.

"So, fair warning, my Aunt May is probably gonna be really excited to meet you." Peter tells me as we enter his apartment building, and I swear, I've never blushed or shook more.

"R-really? Why would she want to meet me?" I question and fiddle with the sleeves of my jacket. "I mean, I'm not special or anything."

"Okay. First, you are special. Second, I told her that we were going to be in the play together. She's so pumped about it that she keeps asking me when it will be and if she can read the script early. Even though we only found out today."

"Well, you'll finally have an answer for the performance night, and it's probably not the best idea for her to read the script earlier. It ruins all the surprise and feeling of watching it for the first time. Trust me, it's hard, but totally worth it in the end."

I follow Peter through the lobby and up to his apartment, where we keep talking as we walk. There's a soft smile that I can't seem to wipe off my face the entire time. I can't explain it, but there's something about him that just makes me feel so at ease—comfortable in a way I rarely remember feeling.

Although, the comfort seems to dissipate as we enter his apartment. It's replaced by the same poorly fitting skin I typically wear. Peter's aunt rounds the corner with a beaming smile as she wraps her nephew into a hug. "And who's your friend, Peter?" She asks with an even wider smile, and I don't know if I'm crazy or if Peter is actually turning red.

"This is—um—my friend Y/N. She's playing the other lead in the play." Peter tells her as he fiddles with the straps of his backpack. "Y/N, this is my Aunt May."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker." I smile and try not to wrap my arms around myself or shrivel up.

"Oh, please, call me May," she informs me and pulls me into a hug before I can even blink, "and it's so nice to meet you. I remember Peter telling me about you after you were project partners and auditions."

"And we're just going to go run lines in the living room." Peter interjects and grabs my hand to tug me away. "Sorry about that. She's just—yeah."

"I don't mind. She seems sweet." I smile down at my script, which already is crinkling and folding at the edges from my nervous fidgeting. "It's nice that she cares so much."

"Yeah, she's pretty awesome. What about you?" Peter inquires, asking the question I always dread most. Mostly because it always means another big lie and round of faking.

"My parents are cool, I guess. They're really excited about the play. Mom comes every time, and Dad—well, he tries his best to make it." I shrug and pass Peter a highlighter. "Why don't we get started?"

Peter just nods at me, but I can see the curiosity lingering. It's there in his eyes the wonder and desire to know more. I have to resist fidgeting under his stare to avoid suspicion. Instead, it only take a few minutes before we're chatting about our characters and laughing at the events of it.

"How about this one?" I ask as I scoot towards Peter so our knees are touching. "Thomas, I don't even know where to begin. We're never gonna have a chance to live normal lives. No matter what we do, there's going to be obstacles."

Peter smiles as he reads through the next lines, "Maybe, but obstacles are meant to be overcome. I don't care about them. All I care about is you. As long as I have you, then I will face a thousand obstacles and do so happily. Because you are worth all the trouble in the world." His eyes meet mine as he says the last part, and I swear if I didn't know better, I would swear he means it.

"Peter—" I start, but I lose track of where the sentence is supposed to go.

"Awww, you two are so cute!" May cheers as she leans on the back of the couch causing me to stealthily make space between Peter and I. "I'm so excited to see the final performance, this just keep hyping me up."

I force another fake smile and feel the tension lifting my shoulders into that scrunching position I go into during social situations. "Thank you, Mrs. Parker. I think it's gonna be a great show." I answer keeping on the fake me. Luckily, my phone vibrates with a text from my Mom. "I'm sorry, my parents want me home. Thank you for having me over, and—um—text me when you want to hang out again, Peter."

"Yeah, of course." Peter chimes as he scrambles to his feet."Do you want to do this again sometime? Maybe go get coffee too?" Peter asks as he sits up and faces me. I bite my lip nervously and nod excitedly. "Awesome. I—I—um, yeah, that's awesome."

"Definitely awesome." I whisper back. "And, maybe, we don't have to go over the script? Just hang out for a bit?"

"As friends or—?" He questions, and I sit up with a sly grin.

"I suppose we'll just have to wait and find out, Peter Parker. I should get going. My parents are expecting me home soon." In a surge of bravery, I lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek. "Bye, Peter. And tell May thank you for having me over."

"Sure—sure thing." He stutters with wide eyes, and I let out a small laugh as I leave. My head spins as I make my way home. Because for the first time, I'm not reworking every word and exchange for a thousand things to regret. I can't stop smiling or thinking about how nice Peter is and how I don't feel out of place around him.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Peter will be the one that can help me be me.

It's a wonderful thought that puts me up on cloud nine as I walk into my apartment, but like always, luck just isn't on my side. Because the moment I step inside and say my hellos to my pet, I find my parents waiting for me with grim faces.

"Hey, is—is everything okay?" I fidget my weight between my feet and feel my stomach drop down to the lobby.

My mom gives me a warning look, and I swear, my stomach is now burrowing a whole beneath the lobby floor. Dad lets out a sigh, which is always a bad sign. "Where were you?"

"I told you guys, I was running lines with Peter."

"And every day this week?" He pushes further, arms crossed over his chest and that cold look in his eyes that he only gets when he's really frustrated.

"Rehearsals. I told you, Dad, I got the lead. I have to go to every rehearsal."

"So, I'm gonna take a wild guess and assume that's why you neglected to finish your Biology work and study for that Chemistry test?" He grills, clearly getting more wound up by the second. "Because your teachers called, you're now officially this close to failing and if that happens, you lose any chance of getting a scholarship."

"I did study for that test. For your information, I was up all night trying to get those chemical equations down." I argue back with a huff despite my mom's pleading looks. The truth is, this is nothing new. If my grades so much as stumble from excellent or slightly below, I get an earful like this. "I do everything I can to do well in that class, but I'm not a chemist, Dad! We all know that, so just give me break because I'm doing my best."

"I get that, but I'm going to be honest that if you don't pull your grades up, you will have to drop out of the play." He threatens with an icy glare.

My mom turns to him with a slack jaw, which I share with her. "No, you don't get to take this away from me. We all know how important being in Drama club is to me. So you don't get to ruin that for me." I snap and fight back the tears in my eyes. "You always tell me that the only person stopping me is me. So let me do this."

Dad opens his mouth to say something back, but my mom intervenes. "Just give her a break. She works hard, and she's right. You need to give her some credit."

I'm quickly dismissed before the full argument can start, and I collapse on my bed, the typical melancholy quickly settling back in. There's the typical dread of the weekend boredom and misery of school again on Monday, but there's also something better. Because for once, I kind of look forward to certain classes, to rehearsals, and—if I'm being entirely honest—to seeing Peter again.

The thought of him brings an actual smile to my face, which no longer feels foreign or rare. No, it's something strange, because for once smiling is starting to feel normal and less like a lie.


	42. beyond the lights pt.3

_Monday Morning_

I walk into school the same way I always do. My first period books pressed close to my chest, and eyes glued to the ground in the crazy hope that no one will look at me if I don't look at them. It usually fails miserably, but it also saves me the embarrassment and self-loathing from all the looks people give me.

Today is unusual. Nobody stops me or tries to taunt me before classes. Nope, there's not a bully in sight the whole way to my locker. That's when I realize why. Who needs to torment someone in person when you can set the trap in advance and film the whole thing, right?

Drawn across my locker—and a few unfortunate neighbors—is a rotting zombie face with the torment underneath it. My stomach churns at the sight of it, and I keep a stoic face to avoid any further enjoyment from them. They're laughter surrounds me as I spin my combination in, and the moment the door swings open, a hundred more drawings tumble out, likely with more 'creative' nicknames for 'Little Miss Emotionless.'

I brush the papers to the floor and toss in my books. "You might want to clean up before you get detention for littering, Eugene."

"Shut up, Robot." He snaps and shoves me into the wall as he walks past me.

The knobs of the locker dig into my back, and I'm sure it's gonna leave a bruise. It hits right under the shoulder blade. The pain making my eyes water with tears. I try to hold them back as I run to the bathrooms to hide away until no one will know I ever cried from their taunts.

"Deep breaths. One, two, three, four." I talk myself through the breathing exercise I was taught to pus away the negative thoughts and settle down any anxiety. It doesn't work though. The tears still stream down my face. I tug at the roots of my hair as my breathing and shaking become more ragged. "Not now, not now, not now."

"Oh my gosh. Did you see her face? That was so hilarious." A girl whose voice I recognize as part of Flash's little group. "She looked like she was actually gonna cry or something."

"It was totally worth coming early to set that up." Her friend chimes in, and I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from getting sick at the thought of how far they went to torment me. "I mean, c'mon, she didn't even look that upset when her grandpa supposedly died."

"He didn't supposedly die." A familiar voice that I recognize after a moment. It's Liz Allen, one of the girls in the play with me and a tentative friend. "I was working as an office assistant last semester. Her parents had to call with the news. She was devastated. They were actually really close, and you should be ashamed of yourself for saying stuff like that."

"What? Don't act all high and might, Lizzy. Everyone knows you like her just about as much as I do." The first girl taunts, and I can hear her spraying more of that obnoxious Bath & Body Works spray she thinks smells amazing. "Plus, it's not like she doesn't already know or will hear us."

I take that as my cue to enter. My eyes are dry and likely red, and cheeks blotchy. "You sure about that? Really should be more careful about where you talk trash about people. It's always so embarrassing when they hear you." I taunt her as I wash my hands, not caring about the water droplets that drip and splash on her shoes and make her screech.

My first period teacher offers me an understanding smile when I walk into class late. I can feel her apologetic grin and the taunting looks that follow me to my seat. My only friend and fellow loner, MJ gives me brief nod from the seat next to me. She shows me a page in her sketchbook of me facing off with Flash. "You looked so badass doing that by the way."

"Felt good to stand up to him for once." I whisper back to her. "Someone ought to."

...

"Hey, Y/N." Peter calls as he runs up to me after classes. "Are you okay? You didn't show up to Chemistry class."

I plaster on a fake smile, happy that all signs that I cried multiple times today have long ago vanished. "Yeah, I just wasn't feeling well, but I'm fine now. Speaking of Chem, can I get your notes? I really need every help I can get in there."

"Of course, but why? You're a total whiz at that kind of stuff." Peter asks with his eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and I struggle to not let the forced smile falter in the slightest. "But—if you really need study help—we can always study together."

"I'm not doing too poorly, but my dad is on my case about doing better in the class. Not that I would ever turn down a good opportunity for a study session." I reply with an awkward shrug. "Anyway, we should probably head to rehearsal before Miss Tillman flips her lid."

"Yeah, sure." He agrees as we head off. "Are you sure you're okay?" I hum an agreement, but it's clear he doesn't believe it in the slightest.

We both walk into the slowly filling auditorium. Miss Tillman is scratching away at the scripts and passing them on to the house manager. "Okay, let's get started." I zone out as Miss Tillman calls the scene and everyone takes their place.

Peter and I keep locking eyes at the most inopportune moments, like when he says something about my character. There's a softness to his eyes. It makes me want to shrink into my seat and pray for spontaneous invisibility, but no such thing happens.

"Honestly, she's radiant, independent, smart, and stronger than anyone else I have ever met in my entire life." Peter recites without looking at the script, but he keeps his eyes on mine as he continues. "Of all the people I have the pleasure and displeasure of knowing, there has never been anyone of her caliber. I fear that she is a thief, for I find my heart and very soul in her possession each time we meet."

And suddenly, it's like Peter Parker is holding my heart in his hands. I press myself down into the chair and pretend like I'm not actually blushing. "That's the end of rehearsal for tonight. Have a great night, guys."

I slowly pack up my things alongside the rest of the cast, partially dreading going home and mostly focused on trying to figure out why Peter looks at me the way he does. Something about it sends a shiver up my spine. Because it feels like for the first time in years, someone can see through the fake smiles and lies I tell like breathing.

"Parker keeps staring at you." MJ whispers to me with that sly smirk. "You should go talk to him. You two would make a cute couple."

"MJ, you can't say things like that." I retort and shove my script into my bag. "Trust me, Peter doesn't like me like me in that way."

"Whatever you say, Y/NN. You better be sure though, cause he's coming this way looking lovestruck." She sing-songs and laughs as she walks away.

"H-hey, Y/N." Peter stutters as he carefully approaches. "So—I was wondering—um—can I—that is would you like to go out for coffee sometime?"

"Of course, just text me the details?" I smile as I swing my backpack on, but Peter remains silent and trembling like before. "Peter? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, no, kind of." His eyebrows scrunch together as he pieces together an understandable response. "I was—the thing is—I meant as a date. Would you like to go out on a date sometime—with me?"

I have to bite my lip to hold back the tears at the memories that the question brings up. "Are you serious? This isn't some sort of joke?"

"N-no, why would it be?"

"Never mind, just forget I even asked that." I force myself to take a deep breath and remember that this is Peter Parker, the sweetest guy I have ever met. He is absolutely  _nothing_  like the jerks from my old school or any of the bullies here. No, this is Peter—genuine, sweet, kind, caring, understanding Peter. "Yeah, I—I would love to go out on a date with you."

"Really?!" He nearly shouts with a beaming grin. A small laugh escapes me at the sight. "I mean, awesome. How does Saturday sound?"

"Saturday sounds perfect. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Y-yeah, tomorrow. Bye, Y/N." Peter calls as we both leave school and head our separate ways. All the while I can't wipe the grin off my face as I text MJ and my older sister in search of advice for my upcoming date.

That's when it hits me. I am going on a date with Peter Parker.

The thought makes me simultaneously happy and terrified. Because my long-term crush asked  _me_  out on a date. But it also means that there will be a whole evening of talking, of hiding likely discomfort from crowds, and of pretending I'm not dying of nerves. Except maybe, maybe it can be different since it's with Peter.

There's something deep in my heart that tells me Peter Parker is more than I could ever have expected.

Although, the entire week goes by in a rush of late night study sessions and lectures from my dad about my lack of improvement in Chemistry. So by the time Saturday rolled around, I found myself monumentally grounded from any and all non-school related activities, including having my phone.

I press my palms into my eyes in a desperate hope to relieve some of the building pressure behind them. Chemical equations keep dancing on the back of my eyelids, and I want to scream instead of spending so much as another second thinking of another one.

"Y/N, babydoll," My Mom calls softly as she peers around the doorway with a sad smile on her face, "There's someone here to see you."

I drop my hands and look at her in complete confusion. "What? I thought I wasn't allowed to see anyone until I'm un-grounded?"

"Well, he's been texting you all day, and he stopped by to see you." A devious grin passes across her lips. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell your Dad. But you should at least talk to him before you turn him away."

"Him?"

"Yeah, it's Peter." At the mention of my friend, her smile widens and a bright glimmer appears in her eyes. "He mentioned something about you two having plans? Are you going on a date?"

"What? Peter's here? I totally forgot we had plans." I question and practically launch myself out of my chair. Sure enough, there's Peter, awkwardly perched on the edge of our living room couch with a terrified expression across his features. I tug the sleeves of my sweatshirt over my hands as I give him a nervous wave. "Hey."

"Hey, Y/N. Is—is everything okay?"

I let out a sigh and force a smile. "Yeah, I mean—kind of. I'm grounded until I can get my chemistry grade up. Plus, my dad took my phone away and has me studying chemistry until my brain starts pouring out my ears so I completely forgot about our date, and I am so so sorry. Is there any way we can reschedule it after I'm not grounded?"

Peter just gives me that understating smile that only feels genuine coming from him. "Yeah, that's totally fine. And, if you want, I can help you study chemistry?"

I have to bite my tongue from shouting out a whole-hearted yes. Because, there's one small issue—my dad. "Um, I-I don't really know."

"Of course, you can stay, Peter." My mom chimes in as she enters the living room. "In fact, would you like to stay for dinner?"

"That would be really nice, Mrs. L/N." Peter replies after looking at me for confirmation. My mom gives him a wide smile and a promise to me to give Dad a heads up. "So, what are you struggling in with Chemistry?"

"Would you take everything as a viable answer?" I joke as we both enter my room, and Peter looks over my multitude of worksheets. "I have a pretty good handle on the concepts, but the problem is when I got to apply it, everything just goes wrong."

"It happens to everyone and with as smart as you are, I doubt it will be long before you're almost the top of the class."

I quirk an eyebrow at him, a teasing smile at the edge of my lips. "Almost? What are you saying I won't be able to beat out the Peter Parker for the top spot?"

"Maybe." He retorts in such an unexpected way, I find myself bursting with giggles. "Now, let's see what we can do."

Peter and I walk through every worksheet and problem that I have with a surprising ease. Somehow, Peter understands exactly how to explain the solution and process in a way that makes sense to my oddball brain. And it's not long before I can complete them with ease and no assistance.

"Oh my gosh, why can't the teacher just explain it like this in the first place? This makes so much more sense than that round about way."

"Yeah, it's not a popular method, so most teachers just stay with the basic way of doing—" His voice drops off as the shouting starts. Peter says nothing more as he turns to me with wide eyes full of questions. I shrink down in my seat and avoid any form of eye contact.

A part of me wishes that this didn't happen, or at the very least, that he could leave without any further problems. But, Dad's shouting makes it pretty clear that won't be possible. "She is grounded. That means she's not supposed to be having friends over or doing anything but studying."

"Will you calm down? They can hear you, and for your information, I asked him to stay. He's helping her study. Plus, Peter is a nice boy, and I highly doubt he would try anything."

"He better not, and if I find out that he's doing anything but tutoring her—" Dad's voice drops off and leaves the threat unfinished, but I can feel the shame and desire to fade out of existence to return full force.

"I'm sorry." I find myself whispering, and the moment the words pass my lips, I can feel Peter's eyes on me.

"Why?"

I shrug, completely unsure of why. It's always been my response when anyone knows anything about how uncomfortable my home life is or sees anything of the me I keep hidden behind the fake everything. "I'm just sorry this is happening. You should probably go once he settles down. Trust me, it can get much worse."

"I'm sorry." He replies, echoing the same phrase back at me, his voice full of apologetic emotion.

"Don't be. It's not your fault." My voice sounds hollow, as empty as the space in my chest. All I can feel is hurt and fear. Because for the first time in years, someone is getting a glimpse at me—at my life—at the black hole that I stuff with too many emotions that it overflows into nothing at all.

I am hurt because now he knows more than I ever wanted him to know, and I am scared because now I might just have to push him away before he can put together the pieces. It terrifies me that I may lose the one person I wanted to know all of me, all because of my own crippling fear of that exact thing.


	43. beyond the lights pt.4

_Two days to Opening Night_

"You really need to talk to him, Y/N. There's no avoiding him forever, especially not like this." MJ whispers to me as we prep for another dress rehearsal. "I swear, if I have to hear Ned beg me to convince you to at least say anything more than a few words to Peter, I'm going to lose my mind."

I set down my shadow sponge with a heavy sigh. Because the problem is, I know I should be listening to MJ. Peter has been trying to talk to me ever since that weekend that he came over and got to know too much. I have been keeping him at arms length ever since despite how much it's clearly hurting us both. Every time he makes an effort to start a conversation outside of small talk and rehearsing, I shut him down. 

"We both know I can't. It's been weeks. What am I even supposed to say to him?"

"How about you just try out being honest for once in your life? I mean, completely with no forced smiles or sugarcoating. Heck, even I don't know much beyond that." MJ retorts with a scoff that would seem bitter on anyone else, but it's half the reason we're such good friends—she doesn't care that I don't talk about myself or person things. "But whatever happened between you two can't be that bad if he's still so determined to talk to you. So just—try to give him a chance?"

"I'll think about it." I retort with the kind of tone that signals the end of this conversation. MJ just gives me the look as we continue putting on our makeup in complete silence. I can feel the looks coming from MJ and a few of the other girls. It's a mixture of curiosity, judgement, and disgust. Except, the worst one is coming from my own reflection.

Because the truth is, I hate myself more than ever. A part of me feels like I've ruined any chance of something good with Peter—all because I'm scared, because I don't know how to be completely real with someone. It's strange when you realize that no one has ever known the whole you. Each person just gets a sliver—a glimpse. Anything more and I run before they can get anything else.

Especially Peter, who saw the one thing I never talk about and is still trying to fight for a place in my life. It breaks my heart. It hurts so much more than watching as my family has fallen apart over these years, more than any harsh comment or taunt, more than any marks bullies can leave, and so much worse than everything else I've endured.

I force back tears as I finish off my makeup and secure my hair with more bobby pins as a distraction from the growing hole in my chest. Because if I let myself dwell on it, that black hole will open wider and swallow me whole.

Miss Tillman smiles as I leave the dressing room before the rest, fully clad in the wondrous costume. She presses her hands to her heart with a sigh and whispers. "My, you really do make a perfect Elysia. Go ahead and go sit on the stage, we have a few things to go over before we start."

I give her another empty smile, eternally thankful for the heavy stage makeup that keeps her from noticing the dark rings under my eyes. Instead, all she sees is the happy me that is a little less pretend when I'm here. Mostly because when I'm here, I get to be Elysia—a different girl with different problems that can be left behind at the end of rehearsals.

Except, as I enter Door 3 and look at the stage, my problems suddenly seem to resurface. Peter sits at the edge of the stage, eyes full of sadness as he stares down at his hands. Although, his brown eyes immediately flash up to me at the sound of my footsteps.

"Y/N, hi." He mumbles and looks me over from head to toe. "Um—how—how are you?"

"I'm doing alright." I tell him with a plastered on smile. "How are—how are you doing?"

There's a glimmer of home that seems to fade form his eyes at the question, and his tone is a bit more abrasive as he replies, "Fine." He pauses for a long time, just looking out at the empty chairs that in a few days will be filled with people waiting for us to be two teenagers in love. "Are you every going to actually talk to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," He lets out a heavy sigh, and I can see the same signs of exhaustion appearing on myself reflected on him, "It just—we haven't really talked. In all honesty, it feels like you have been avoiding me every chance you get."

"I'm sorry." I whisper once again holding back tears.

"Why do you always say that? Even when something isn't your fault, you always apologize." He shakes his head with a heavy sigh. "You don't have to apologize. I just want us to be friends again, or at least to understand what happened to change that."

"If it's any consolation, it wasn't anything you did." I tell him with a sad smile. "It was just—" The rest of the explanation is cut off when some of our cast mates join us out on the stage. "Never mind."

Peter seems so helpless as we start to converse with the other cast mates. I offer him a smile that I hope he can find the pain and heartbreak that's hidden in it. Because there's nothing I want more than to tell him everything, yet the mere thought of doing so feels like staring your worst fear right in the eyes, like seeing your reflection and not knowing who you see.

I wish he could know all those things—the darkness I hide in every fake smile, how much it hurts somedays just to be, and how much it breaks my heart that I can't find the strength to put it into words for him. "I'm sorry." I mouth to him as Miss Tillman calls the meeting.

...

If I thought that avoiding Peter every single day, and—semi—pretending to be completely in love with him hurt, then I was wrong. This is what really hurts. We stand only a foot apart, holding each others hands, and I swear Peter is trying to kill me with his little improvisations that no one would ever see or know of beside me.

It's those small things that are killing me. The way he traces his thumb over my knuckles every chance he gets, of how he'll give my hand a gentle squeeze when he says a line that he means as more than Thomas. Especially like right now, when I see it clearly written in his eyes. 

His voice is soft and tender as he recites the lines that could easily have been spoken by Peter off stage. "You act as though we haven't already endured so much. I doubt there is anything else we can face that can tear us apart now. All I ask is that you allow us the chance to truly have something."

"Thomas, you know it isn't that easy. There is so much more about the situation that you aren't aware of. I have secrets that I can't put into words, and if I could, I don't know that I would utter them to you for fear of things changing."

"But, my darling, change is not always a bad thing. It's a way for us to grow and become stronger together. If we never change, then we will never be anything more than these stolen moments."

Tears build in my eyes, except this time, they aren't for the play. Because this time, I feel Elysia's and my lives intersecting in a way that I don't know how to handle. It makes my head spin as I try to separate the two situations and solve one with the other. Although, the best I can do is to continue on like always.

I press a hand to Peter's cheek, tears now rolling down my cheeks. "I am sorry, my love, but these moments are too precious to me to risk losing." There's a flicker in his eyes—one that I recognize as him doing everything he can to stay in character—as he improvises and places his hand over my own. "I'm sorry. I-I have to go." I stutter before running off the stage—both to follow the script and my own need.

MJ is waiting for me in the small, attached green room. Her eyes are full of the same bitter understanding I'm sure only appeared after watching that scene. I wipe my eyes and struggle to breath as I avoid the stares of the rest of the cast.

Then, MJ does something that surprises me more than anything else she's ever done. She grabs my shoulder and tugs me into a tight hug. "It's gonna be okay." She whispers softly. Because in this moment, I think both of us realize the truth. I am breaking myself and my own heart just to save myself—and Peter.


	44. beyond the lights pt.5

Opening night, it's actually here. I have remind myself of it every passing minute as I pace back and forth in the empty hallway with my script in hand. "You're nervous too, huh?" A familiar voice asks as he pulls me out of my nervous concentration.

"Yeah. No matter how many times I do this, it still terrifies me." I let out a sigh and smile softly at Peter. "Especially now that everyone is going to be watching us."

"You'll do great, Y/N." He reassures me. "You've always been good at that kind of thing."

"Peter, I—" I stutter and try to hide the trembling in my hands, but my voice dies in my throat.

"You know, I really like you, Y/N."

"I like you too, Peter. I like you more than I can explain." I whisper and lean against the wall. "It's just, it's hard to explain."

Peter steps forward so I have almost no choice but to look at him. "It's okay. You don't have to explain anything if you're not ready. It's just—you make me so confused. I have such trouble figuring you out.

"One second it's like you have this shield up. You put on these fake smiles and pretend you're okay. Then when it's just us hanging out, you give that up and just—you're so real. I get the chance to see who you really are. That's the person I like, but sometimes you're so good at pretending, the lines get blurred."

"I'm sorry. I guess sometimes when you pretend for long enough, the lines get blurred even to you. Even my family can't tell the difference anymore. You're actually the first person who has ever seem to notice the difference."

"Is that why you've been avoiding me?" He questions, and I nod somberly.

"That's partly the reason." I pause and meet his eyes. "I really do like you, Peter, and I know that's hard to believe. It's true though."

"I believe you, Y/N. It's just hard to tell when you're being real and when you're pretending."

I open my mouth to reply, but there's no chance. "Everyone get to the green room. Opening curtain in five, and I need you in place, Elysia." Peter gives me a sad smile as we both take our separate places.

My mind keeps wandering as we perform, but I'm sure that no one in the crowd or cast notices. Because as distracted as I am, I allow myself to get lost in the role. It goes by beautifully with Peter and I able to pretend for tonight better than ever before.

Although, when the great argument comes up, all I can think about is my conversation with Peter before we started the performance. So as Thomas argues with Elysia over the secrets and lies, I can feel myself rising to the surface.

"Elysia, all I want is for you to be able to confide in me. I know our futures may not be what we wish, but that does not mean we cannot change things. Although, nothing can change if you won't allow it to—if you won't allow yourself to be true, if you won't allow yourself to be real and honest."

The last sentence isn't part of the script, and I know that it came directly from Peter. It breaks my heart—breaks me. I barely think as I abandon the notion of being Elysia for a short moment. 

"Look, I know that I have trouble and am learning how to be honest and real," I pause and step forward to lessen the already little space between us, my hand resting on his cheek, "but this is one thing I could never fake."

Peter gives me a quizzical look, but it quickly fades as I tug him forward by his lapels and press a kiss to his lips. To the audience, I'm quite certain the action looks like part of the performance, for which they are heartily cheering. Although, I'm sure Miss Tillman is going to freak out later. So I use the limited opportunity to pour everything I have into it.

I nearly pull back in surprise when Peter places a hand on my waist and kisses me back. There's a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he puts just as much emotion into it as I am. When we finally pull away, tears building in my eyes as I once again myself and Elysia overlap, but I resume following the carefully practiced script.

"I am sorry, my love." I whisper as I back away. "Maybe Fate has chosen to take us on different paths, but know that if it was possible, I would fight until her mind is changed. Know that I will continue to care for you as long as I breath."

The moment I enter the green room, MJ, Miss Tillman, and the rest of the cast are all waiting and watching me. A moment later, when Peter enters, Miss Tillman finally bursts at the seams. "That was phenomenal. It so good that it made the story even better you two are true thespians. Just remember to keep that energy for the grand finale."

Luckily, there's another scene before either of us has to go on again, which provides me a small moment to talk to Peter. "Hey, so about that." I whisper as I tug Peter into a unoccupied corner of the green room, "I'm sorry if that was unexpected or if I crossed a line or—"

Peter takes my hand and cuts me off, "It wasn't. I actually wanted to ask you something." He takes a deep breath and leans in as he whispers, "Would you—maybe—want to try going on another date?"

"I—I would like that very much, but only if you're sure. I haven't exactly been the best to you."

"I'm entirely sure. If you promise that you'll try to be yourself and not hide away."

"I promise to do my best." I whisper back and wrap him a tight hug. "Thank you, Peter, for everything. Especially for not giving up on me."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He whispers back, "After all, I've kind of had a crush on you since you came to school here. You're one of the best people I've ever met."

"I doubt that's true, but I'll let you keep believing it." I smile and press a kiss to his cheek. "We should probably get out there. We have a show to finish."

Peter grins wider than ever before. I find the same beaming smile on my face as I move to take my place with one last look at Peter before I have to fake a somber mood. Although, it makes the reunion between Thomas and Elysia that much more believable as we both can't hide our giddiness. "I'll see you at the end of the aisle then."

"Of course, my darling." I reply, still not wanting to let go of his hand. "Tomorrow and forever."

"Tomorrow and forever, my love." The words linger in the air for a second as the lights still shine down on the pair of us holding hands before cutting. We both scramble off stage and past the rest of the cast, who are patiently waiting for their bow at curtain call.

When it's our turn, Peter grips my hand a little tighter as he pulls me out alongside him. We raise our hands in a bow, each taking our turn before coming back together. That's when Peter surprises me, by lifting a hand to my chin and kissing me in front of the roaring crowd. "Had to get your back for the surprise you gave me."

I shake my head at him as we take the final bow and catch sight of my Mom in the crowd with Aunt May next to her. Both of them are cheering and bouncing on their feet. It makes me laugh as I lean against Peter, who joins in when he notices the sight of them.

"I'm pretty sure they're celebrating us getting together as much as the play." He tells me once we're off stage and out of sight. "But to be honest, I'm pretty happy about it too."

"Yeah? So am I." I tell him with a widening grin. "Honestly? I don't think that I've been this happy for a really long time." And it's true, I feel relieved, happy, and completely over the moon with an indescribable feeling. 

Maybe, it's love—or just the crazy feeling of having someone want to be with you despite everything. Either way, I think I was right. Peter Parker is different from everyone else, and even now, he's showing me how to be myself and happy once again.

So yeah, maybe I am falling in love with Peter Parker, and for the first time, the thought doesn't scare me.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a request by SeaweedBrain. I hope you like it, love! 
> 
> Also, I started a new Peter Parker fic inspired by the first short story in this. It's called A Siren's Sorrow, and the first chapter is already up. Go check it out. (It's gonna be good.)

_Request by AO3 user SeaweedBrain_

The interviewer smiled cheerily as everyone settled down for the next round of interviews in what seemed like a never ending string of them for the press tour. It's been a constant rush from one place to the other, but we learn to love it as a part of the job.

I watch from a corner of the room without the knowledge of my dad or boyfriend. Both of whom are doing a set of interviews together before we all reconvene to round it out with a final, group interview. But since I finished a little bit early, I was able to sneak in and watch.

They go through the usual questions—life on set, working with cast, and the feeling of being a superhero. Once those formalities are out of the way, the  _real_  questions start getting asked. "So, Robert, your daughter plays a character in this movie. How does it feel to be hollywoods dream father-daughter duo?"

"It's wonderful. Plus, it's nice to be able to working on a project together for the first time. We always have the chance to spend time together."

"And I hear she's playing Peter Parker's love interest, while also dating you, Tom? How does that make it for you three?"

Tom shakes his head with a laugh. "Interesting."

Although, at the same moment, my dad interjects with, "Awkward." The two of them turn to each other with a funny look shared between them. "Shut up, Holland. You don't know what you're talking about yet. Wait until you have a kid and are in the same situation. Trust me, it gets awkward."

The interviewer laughs as she crosses her legs and preps for the next question. "How did the two of you meet?"

"We actually met last year on set of Spiderman: Homecoming. She was coming to hang out with Robert." I smile and bite my lip as I remember the day we met. "A lot of the cast had been invited to Downeytown and hang out. So when I got there, I was already so nervous because—Robert Downey Jr.—and that's when I saw her."

Tom drops his head as a smile creeps across his face. "It was one of those weird moments when things don't seem quite real. She was dancing around and singing along to the song playing like she was performing. That's about the time she ran into me."

I clamp a hand over my mouth to bite back the laugh threatening to escape me, but no one else bothers to hide theirs. "I swear, I have never seen her turn so red in her entire life." Dad adds with a laugh. "She just stood there with doe eyes and turned crimson. Meanwhile, he stood there with his mouth wide open, completely dumbstruck."

"What can I say? She was the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen. I honestly couldn't believe she was real, much less standing in front of me." Tom shakes his head as that same dreamy look he gets takes over his eyes. "I swear it was worse when I finally asked her out. She's honestly one of the best people I have ever known, and when she said yes, I thought I was going crazy."

"I still can't believe it happened either, but they seem to make each other very happy."

The interviewer beams at the gold she seems to have struck. Mostly because it's not often that Dad will chime in about the relationship. Which, unfortunately, has lead quite a few people to believe that he doesn't approve. "Well, sadly, that is all of my time for this interview. Thank you for everything."

Dad and Tom both chime in with their usual thanks and responses, and I wait until they're all finished before joining them. "So, I was the most gorgeous girl you've ever seen, huh?" I tease as I wrap an arm around Tom's shoulders from behind.

"Nope." He chimes as he turns toward me. "You  _are_  the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen. There's nothing past tense about it."

A laugh escapes me and I press a quick kiss to his lips. "You are such an idiot sometimes."

"Yeah, but I will always be your idiot." He retorts with a laugh as we head on to meet up with the rest of the cast for the final round of interviews. "How has your day been so far, darling?"

"Exhausting, but it was still fun. Right now, I'm just waiting for it to be over so that we can go back to the hotel and cuddle."

"Only a little bit longer." Tom whispers into my hair.

"There's the two lovebirds." Chris Evans calls as we enter the room. "Glad to see you two didn't hide somewhere to make out."

"Don't give me that mental image." Dad calls as he takes his designated seat. "And quit giving them ideas, Evans."

"No worries, Dad. We usually save the make outs for private." I tease and find a spot next to Hemsworth on the couch with Tom next to me. "I'm just kidding. Normally we keep it PG."

Everyone groans and teases us as we settle down for the last few interviews. It starts through the normal questions, and then it inevitably breaks off with natural tangents from conversation and leads to the usual group teasing Tom and I.

"I swear, it's like working with two lovesick puppies. They're adorable by themselves, but then put them together and it's just too much to handle." Evans explains when asked about working with us as a couple.

"Oh, and don't even get started on those cute little things they do together and for each other." Scarlet adds on. "Like whenever it's early one of them brings the other coffee, and when it's cold, he'll share his jacket with her, or keep her up when he had another scene to film but she was tired."

Dad looks at us for a moment before he chimes in. "It's all very true. I'll admit I wasn't too sure about them at first, but it is very clear that they love each other and make one another very happy. They've really got something special."

The interviewers beam, clearly happy to have found this little bit of real conversation. I lean my head on Tom's shoulder and try to hide my growing blush. He smiles at the gesture as the conversation slowly shifts away. I return the smile and quietly whisper, "I love you."

...

When we finally make it back the hotel, I nearly collapse onto the plush bed. "Ugh, it feels nice to be done with interviews." I roll over to watch Tom as he takes off his shoes and settles down next to me. "Plus, it's nice to have some time with just us."

"I'll always take any time I can get with you." Tom whispers as he lays down next to me. "Do you remember our first date?"

I let out a laugh at the memory. "How could I forget? We went out to that little restaurant and ended up talking until they were closing. Then you took me home, and you were so nervous I thought you were going to pass out."

"I almost did. You were just so wonderful that I wasn't sure any of it was real. Not to mention, your dad was inside waiting, which made me completely terrified. I started rambling trying to explain to you how I felt."

"Then I laughed because you were just so cute when you were rambling." I reply with a smile as I settle myself against his arms. "It was right then that I realized how much I liked you. Mostly because you were the first one who seemed to actually like me for more than my last name. Something about the way you looked at me, it made me feel like you really  _saw me_."

"I could say the same of you. You always made me feel a little less like someone famous and just as me. Then, when I saw how you always endeavored to be so genuine. It never mattered who was around or watching, no one could stop you from being extraordinarily yourself in any and every way."

A smile appears across my face that I can't get rid of. Tom smiles widely in return as he leans forward and presses a long, tender kiss to my lips. "You know, I keep wondering how I got so lucky. We met exactly one year, seven months, and thirteen days ago, and I've been in love with you for one year and seven months of it."

"You really kept count?" I question with a light chuckle and shake my head at my dorky boyfriend. "Gosh, I really fell in love with you—romantic, dorky. and all."

"Well, I kept track because I had a feeling this was gonna last." He informs me as he traces his fingers over the exposed skin of my arm.

"It's been pretty great so far if you ask me, and I have a feeling it's gonna stay that way for a long while after this."

"Me too. There one question that I wanted to ask you, though." I tilt my head in curiosity as he slips out of bed and walks into the other room without a word. He comes back with a meek smile. "Sorry, I forgot there's something I needed to grab before asking you."

My heart pounds against my ribcage as I prop myself up on the bed. "Tom, what's going on?"

He stays silent as he holds up a hand and puts the little box in my line of sight. "Before you freak out, just let me say what I need to." I nod and take a deep breath as I watch him drop down to his knee. "Y/N Downey, I know we've only been dating for a little while, but believe me when I say, I have never been more sure of anything in my whole life. From the moment I saw you, I suddenly started to believe in love at first sight.

"Then, throughout the past year of us dating, I became even more certain of the idea. There has never been anyone who has understood, loved, comforted, and known me as well as you do. You are the my complement, and I can't imagine a day without you.

"And before you say it, I know this is early. I know how much the idea of the 'Hollywood curse' terrifies you, but I want you to know that I won't give up on you—not now or ever. Because the idea of not having you by my side hurts more than I can explain. So I've already talked to your family for their blessing, since I now how much it means to you.

"Which leads me to my big question. Y/N Downey, will you do me the greatest honor and make me the happiest man in existence by marrying me?"

Tears build in my eyes, and I can barely move from the shock. Tom's face fill with terror and worry the longer I wait to reply. "Yes," I whisper through the happy tears streaming down my face. "A hundred thousand times, yes. I'd love nothing more than to marry you."

In that moment, Tom's worry disappears in an instant, and his face nearly splits from the wide smile. "Really?!" He shouts, to which I hastily nod in reply. "Oh my gosh, you said yes!" I can't hide my laugh as he struggles to put the ring on my finger, and it escapes me completely when he spins me in his arms.

"I can't believe this is real." I whisper after we both calm down a little bit more. "We're really gonna get married."

"Yeah, we are." He whispers back and kisses me like it's the first and last time. "We're gonna get married, future Mrs. Holland."

"Well, Mrs. Downey-Holland. I don't know how well Dad would react to me not being at least part Downey." I tease and give him another quick peck on the lips. "Either way, I like the sound of being your wife."  
  


_A/N:_   
_For those of you who haven't heard, I've started  a full Peter Parker fic inspired by the first short story of this book! It's called A Siren's Sorrow, and the first chapter is up now! Feel free to check it out._

_Xx_   
_– V_

 


	46. silence pt.1 {p.p}

Noise, like voices of people in a crowded room all clamoring for my attention. It sends my head throbbing with each layered syllable. Stars burst and dance across the back of my lids as I press my palms to relieve the pressure behind my eyes.

The words grow louder as the episode rages on in full force. I nearly collapse on my knees under the weight of it. Yes, as the Noise grows, so does the Darkness. It's the best name I could come up with for the harsh, gravely voices that echo the thoughts of people with dark, greedy, criminal hearts.

Pretty, want, take, knife. It's simple words that never construct sentences, but always seem to paint too vivid a picture. Everything starts becoming foggy under the haze of Noise until all that occupies my mind beyond it is the one thought—one consuming need for silence. It takes over as I slip on my belt and jacket, which are all I really need to accomplish my goal.

I know that I should call Peter. He has been the only escape I have from the constant, bombarding sound. For some reason, no one else can provide me the peace, understanding, or quiet I need. Only Peter has been able to help me since it started.

It's been three, excruciatingly long months since the Blip that brought us back. I wish I could say that it all worked out and went back to normal. Except, it went the opposite direction. I came back with enhanced abilities, found out I lost all control of my abilities, and then was told that my mentor died in the final battle too. It was like the whole world shattered.

Want. Take. Quiet. Hurt. Blood. The words ring through my head as the city seems to cluster the farther I walk. My head pulses with every syllable, each one another wave of pain building and building the closer I get. The mere thought of another episode makes me pick up the pace and try to make a call with shaky fingers.

Except, the Noise grows too loud before I can. It drowns out everything else and paints the world in shades of red. "Y/N?" A panicked voice calls sounding miles away before uttering a string of curses. "I know you probably won't hear this, but I am on my way. You're going to be fine."

The words are lost as the Darkness becomes strong enough to overtake my mind. It's the telltale sign that tonight's target is near. My fingers instinctively reach for the baton, and wrist flicks to extend it.

I can feel it becoming stronger as whoever is tonight's source of Darkness is nearing with every step. Sure enough, at the mouth of an alley, there stands a burly man with his face mostly covered in shadows. A horrifying smile dances across the edge of his lips at the sight of me, but it drops the second he notices the trademark jacket and baton in my grasp.

"My, my, my, what is a greasy criminal like you doing out all alone this late at night?" I taunt with a voice that doesn't sound like my own. "Don't you know how dangerous it is?"

The man's eyes widen in utter terror and dart from my face to the baton wrapped loosely in my grasp. "I—I don't mean any harm. Please, just let me go."

"Huh?" I click my tongue. "I wonder how many times people have begged you to let them go unharmed. In fact, I'll make a deal with you. If you can name one instance where you let a victim go when they said 'please,' I'll do the same."

The man stutters and guffaws as he desperately searches for any answer. "Well, I—"

"I think we both know there isn't an answer. So I'll make a further offer. If you ask really nicely, I might let you crawl instead of be carried away."

"How about neither?" A familiar voice chimes through the alleyway, making the man swivel his head toward the sound. I let out a heavy sigh as I give him a good hit with the baton to knock him out.

Yet, there's still the Noise ringing in my ears. It still pounds and circles in my head, tempting me to continue until he's silenced. "Quiet." I shout over and over as I get in a few more hits before my arms are pinned down by my side. "Let me go. It's too loud. I have to stop it."

"No, Y/N, this isn't you." Peter whispers as he tightens his hold until I'm nothing more than a sobbing mess in his arms. He leans his forehead against the back of my neck and lets out a heavy, grievous sigh. "Breathe, Y/N, please. I know how much you're hurting, but this isn't you. It's just another episode."

As Peter continues to whisper, the Noise slowly starts to fade. Tears spring up in my eyes, and I melt into his arms as a sobbing mess. "I'm sorry. I didn't—I'm so so sorry." My knees collapse beneath me as I try to bite back the sobs as my senses fully return to me.

The problem is, I have no idea what I've done in the past hour. Peter already anticipates the question and turns me so that I'm facing him, "It's okay. We're gonna go back to my apartment, and you're staying with me for a while."

I shake my head and try to push him away. "I can't do this anymore. It's getting worse, and I can't stop it, Peter. Every time the Noise gets too loud, this happens, and I can't stop it. People are getting hurt, and it's just getting worse."

Peter places his hands on my cheeks and forces me to look at him. "We're going to fix this. I promise, and I'll be there with you the whole way. Okay?"

I can't help but smile a little at my boyfriend's care and kindness. "Okay." I whisper softly and let him wrap an arm around me as he leads me back to his apartment. We walk along in silence as tears still stream down my face. "How can you still love me after all this? Because I know I certainly don't. So how can you love a monster like me?"

"I love you because despite everything, you still care, and you're certainly not a monster." His voice and head drop as he continues. "Just because you're changed, doesn't mean my feelings for you have. I just—I just wish Mr. Stark was here. He would know what to do."

I rest my head on Peter's shoulder as we stop outside his apartment. "I miss him too."

"Either way, I promise you—we will get through this." He reassures me as he traces circles into my skin. I sadly smile into his chest and relish in the quiet that Peter's presence brings. And, for the first time since we came back, I feel hopeful that it really will be okay.

Except, I know that the Noise is there—waiting—to take me back and cause more destruction. I just pray that Peter and I can solve this before too much happens.


	47. silence pt.2

I lay back against the top bunk of Peter's bed. One of May's non-negotiable rules for my sleepovers is that we must sleep in separate beds. Except, there are times like now. It's too hard to sleep when the Noise took too much of a hold.

A shiver traces over my skin as the cold metal of the bunkbed's ladder touches my feet, but at this point, I'm starting to get accustomed to it. Peter barely stirs as I settle myself on the floor next to his bed. He always hates it when I do this—when I just lay on the floor and listen to him sleep. I relish in the silence he brings with his presence. It's the closest thing I've known to peace my whole life.

"What are you doing on the floor?" Peter's groggy voice startles me.

I move to hug the pillow against my chest and try to hide myself from his view. "Nothing." I lie, and he knows it as he props himself up on an elbow to watch me. "I couldn't sleep."

Peter's eyes soften at the comment, and he spreads his arms out as he whispers. "Come here."

"But Aunt May will—" I try to protest, but he cuts me off by picking me from the floor and setting me on the bed. "I don't want you to get into trouble."

"She'll understand. Trust me, she knows how bad these nights can get." I bite back the building tears as Peter pulls the covers over our shoulders. "Hey, you're going to get better. I promise—we're going to find a way."

"Maybe it's time we talk about—" I shrink when Peter's head instantly snaps to me, "—about going to the Sanctum or—or trying the plans that he left."

"If it's what you want." He lets out a heavy sigh and brushes a thumb over my cheekbone to wipe the stray tears. It's comforting like coming home after a long day to fall into your bed. Except, this is better. This feels like home and peace.

"I don't, but we're running out of options. It hurts so much when it happens, and I can't keep putting you through this either." Now, I'm practically sobbing, but Peter merely pulls me tighter into his chest. "I wanna stop hurting people. I wanna stop hurting myself and you."

"You aren't hurting me." His lips move against my forehead before he presses a feathery kiss to the warm skin. "Now try to sleep. We can talk about it in the morning."

I don't want to fall asleep, but the sound of Peter's heartbeat is like a perfect lullaby. It's the only time I really can rest. Every other time is interrupted or infused with the Noise at all times. His fingers continue to run through my hair in the gentlest way, and I can't help but smile as I drift off to sleep.

It feels like only minutes before Peter's soft whispers wake me up. "Hey, Y/N. May made breakfast." I grumble and nuzzle my face deeper into his chest. "C'mon, she made your favorite."

"Not hungry." I whisper, which is true. Now in the clear-headed silence, I can recall a little bit more of what happened before Peter came and stopped me. My arms retract from him as I curl in on myself.

"Babe, please, you need to eat something. I know you haven't been eating much since the attacks started worsening, but you have to take care of yourself." His voice drops down to a barely audible whisper. "Please, for me."

"It just hurts." I mumble and press my palms over my ears as the stress and sudden emotions make the Noise louder. Tears build in my eyes as I dare to face him. "It hurts all the time, and I can't stop it. The only time it lessens is when you're around."

"Please, come get something to eat, and then we're going out."

"Where?"

"We're going to see if there's someone out there who can help." I sit up at his words and watch in bewilderment. "As much as I don't want to, I'm taking you to the Sanctum."

"Are you sure? He might not even be there or agree to help me."

Peter's hand gently hold my face and traces his thumbs over my cheeks to wipe the tears. "If he doesn't, then we'll camp out there until he does, or we'll track down Wanda to see if she has any ideas, or we can see if we can find anything in—in Mr. Stark's research. Because I've told you this a hundred times, and I'll tell you a hundred times more. I love you, Y/N, and I will do anything to make sure you're happy and healthy."

I nuzzle my face into his hands and lean forward to press a kiss to his lips. "I love you too, Peter Parker, and I don't know how or what I did to deserve you."

"You never had to do anything. You're the one that I don't deserve." I let out a harsh chuckle. Even after all this time and trials, Peter still knows how to make my heart swell with love. He always knows how to make me feel like a person again.

When Tony took me in, I didn't think I could trust anyone again—much less fall in love. My whole life before then I had been fighting. There was never a moment's peace after my mom just left me on my own. I was left as a kid on the street with crazy abilities and nothing to her name. Then Tony found me and worked to fix the cracks he had mirrored in me.

It was the epitome of a fresh start. I worked hard to hone my abilities, to open up to people, and to finally feel like a normal person. Then I met Peter, and for the first time, I knew what comfort was to have someone to call my own—who I loved and loved me in return.

I let out a sigh and nod. "I'll get dressed. Then we can eat and head out." Peter softly smiles and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, but I find myself in need of more as I grab his face and press my lips against his. "Alright, I'm actually going to get up now."

"Okay, I'll let May know to start your waffles."

"Pete?" He stops halfway out the door to turn back to me, "I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N, until the very end." My heart swells at the giddy smile on his face, and I feel like I can face anything if I know that I'll see that smile again. It also makes the prospect of facing Strange again a little less terrifying.

But, I guess everything is a little bit easier with someone you love by your side.


	48. silence pt.3

My palms feel sweaty, and my head spins from the excess of Noise coming from the bustling crowds of New York. I struggle to keep from toppling over either from the surrounding chaos or nerves, I'm not sure. Not to mention the wave of energy that's radiating off of the Sanctum.

Luckily, Peter seems to notice and squeezes my hand in reassurance. "I'm ready. I can do this." It's a whisper, but there's an edge fo confidence behind it. "A part of me always knew that I was bound to come back at some point."

"Well, this time, you're not alone."

"No, I'm definitely not." I smile at him as we approach the door, and Peter gives me an odd look as I merely wait instead of knocking. Sometimes it's funny how often he seems to forget I spent years working through my abilities and studying the mystic arts before being taken in by Tony and later the Ancient One. Then, everything fell apart after the blip, and I never had the heart or strength to return.

The door swings open with a loud creak, and a voice echoes from inside. "Come on in, don't want to let the heat out." Strange appears in the doorway a soft smile on his features as we walk inside. "I thought you said you were never coming back."

"Really? Cause if I remember correctly, you told me not to come back." I snap. The Noise is practically screaming in my ears. It makes me grit my teeth to keep from doubling over in pain and avoid another attack.

"It's worse now." Strange whispers, sadness and bitter understanding evident in his voice. "Let's see what we can do."

I stumble into Peter at the sudden shift. It's my least favorite thing about Strange—he always loves to do that instead of just walk somewhere. My feet seem to fall out from under me, and Peter has to rush to catch me and settle me in a chair. 

"Hey, it's okay. I'm right here. You're gonna be okay." He pauses and look up to Strange with eyes full of panic. "She's gonna be okay, right?"

Strange stays silent for a long moment, before walking over to us. "We'll find out soon enough. Catch her if she falls." That's all he says as he starts the first spell, and I feel the world go fuzzy around me before fading to black.

"Well, what is it?" I hear Peter's voice question as I slowly try to open my eyes. "Is she going to be okay?"

"She'll be alright, but it's going to take a little bit of time."

"Doesn't everything?" I mumble and rub my temples. "What's it going to take?"

Strange stays quiet for a long moment, and I swear he's trying to tell me something without saying it. His eyes dart to Peter for a split second before settling back on me. "You already know the answer to those questions."

"No, I don't. If I did, do you really think I'd be here?" I snap, but then it dawns on me exactly what he means. "Oh."

"Wait, I'm still confused." Peter chimes in as he rubs him thumb over my knuckles like he always does when he's anxious. "Can someone explain it to me?"

Strange waits for me to answer, but I am still reeling from it all to say anything. "Y/N has always been sensitive to mystic powers, but after the Blip, she came back with an increased sensitivity. What's happening is her abilities are taking over because of the circumstances."

"Because I'm not in control of my emotions, I'm not in control of the connections or my powers." I add and try to not squeeze Peter's hand too hard. "What he's saying is the grief is literally destroying me. It's why being around him helps quiet everything, isn't it? He calms me down and—and my feelings for him help counteract the rest of the chaos."

"Pretty much, yes." Strange nods and moves to grab a book from the table. "You'll have to dive into it headfirst and sever each connection. It's gonna take time, but you'll need to work through regaining control of your power and emotions."

I let out a sigh and lean against Peter. We both vividly remember the initial process I went through to gain a sense of control, and it was a long and painful road. Tears brim in my eyes at the mere thought of going through that again. "I'll give you two a moment before we go over the details."

"Hey, hey." Peter crouches down in front of me, the same struggle I'm feeling rejected in his eyes. "It's gonna be okay. You're strong enough to do this, and I'm gonna be there the whole time."

"No, Pete, I'm not." I cry through the tears. "I can't do that again. It was hard enough the first time and now—now I won't have Tony too. There's just—no way I can do it. I won't make it this time."

Peter's hands wrap around my wrist and pull my hands from my face, only to be quickly replaced by his own. "Yes, you will. Let me tell you why. Because while—while Mr. Stark may not be here, he would want and be encouraging you to do this. I know how much it hurts, but you are the strongest person I've ever met. Plus, there's no way you're going to have to do this alone—not even for a moment. I promise you that."

"Okay." I sigh and nuzzle my face deeper into his touch. "Maybe, maybe I can do this."

"You can. You know why?" I shake my head, and he offers me the sweetest smile I've ever seen. "Because you are Y/N L/N, which already means you can do anything, and on top of that, I love you."

"I love you too." I take a deep breath and tangle my fingers in his. "Okay, let's do this."


	49. holland & holmes pt.1 {t.h.}

_sherlock au_

The cab jostles and bounces through the streets of London, which sends its passengers tossing around inside it. I lean back against the leather of the seat as I try to swallow the building nausea and anger from the situation and pointed looks.

Well, more precisely look.

Uncle Mycroft is far too wrapped up in the contents of his notebook to acknowledge any piece of the situation. Dr. Watson, on the other hand, alternates between looking out the window and glancing at me as if he expects me to leap out of the moving cab at any moment.

Although, I have to admit, it's not an entirely irrational assumption. Because the prospect of tumbling out against the rough cobblestone has a growing appeal in contrast to sitting almost knee to knee against the angry look of Inspector Thomas Holland.

His deep brown eyes bore into me from across the cab as he tries to pick me apart like he used to. It makes me have to bite down the need to fidget or hide in my seat like a school girl caught by the teacher. There's a part of me that foolishly wishes he was looking like that because he still cares but I firmly believe those days are long gone. If they weren't, we wouldn't be so cold.

My eyes fall from his, I've learned meeting his gaze for more than a second only fuels the fire. So I turn my gaze to his constantly moving hands. Although, I quickly wish I hadn't when I notice exactly what he's fiddling with—my grandfather's watch.

It was a family heirloom, which was passed down from my grandfather—a sought after watchmaker—to my mother as a token for her to pass on to her future husband and children. Papa once told me she thought of hearts like clocks. "They always have a constant beat to prove their alive. Additionally, in the wrong hands, they can be broken, but in the right ones, they can be mended as if nothing happened."

The old timepiece is easily recognizable for the intricate engraving that covers the metal faces. Papa gave it to me when I was fifteen as a way to remember the mother that had long ago faded into a ghost of memories. He even made me promise—a very unlikely thing of Sherlock Holmes to do—that I would only give it to someone I trusted implicitly and with all my heart—no one else.

There's an ache in my chest as I remember at time that was Thomas—and how despite so much that's happened, he still is the one I would trust with my life. I open my mouth to say something, ignoring the dull pain radiating from my recently broken lip, but the words fall short when the cabbie shouts, "Baker Street, Sirs and Miss."

I don't bother to wait for the cabbie to open the door or help me down. Instead, I resort to the unladylike action of stepping out on my own. It brings a small smile to my face as no one seems to care or notice due to my masculine garb, which happened to get me into this situation in the first place.

The door to 221 swings open to reveal a flustered Mrs. Hudson with a blanket in hand and face as pale as a ghost at the sight of me. "Y/N Holmes," She sighs as she drapes the blanket over me to cover my lack of 'appropriate dress,' "what on God's green earth happened to you? Do you have any idea how worried I was? I promise, you'll be the death of me one of these days."

I barely manage to hold in a laugh at her final statement. "Really? I was sure that would be Papa's doing." The elderly woman merely huffs at the jest and mutters something under her breath that I can't catch as she moves to welcome the men into the house. "I'll be in my study if anyone needs me."

"Not so fast, young lady. We still have much to discuss about your behavior today." Mycroft interjects before I can make it up the first few steps. "Just because your father allows this behavior and is not currently available, does not mean you can roam free."

"I made no comments otherwise. All that I ask is that we can continue this conversation in my study where I can continue my research. In case you have forgotten, I have cases to finish and theories to test, and do you not have meetings to attend?" I offer him a sweet smile and lean over the banister for a moment. "I'll be taking tea in my study if it's not too late, Mrs. Hudson."

"I am not your housekeeper." She snaps, but I pretend to be too far away to hear her as I crack open the latest acquisition to my library.

The thick blanket is immediately shed when I reach the comfort of our little sitting room, and I relish in the feeling of freedom that pants provide as I set the new book on the shelf. "Did you need anything else? Or did you merely come to lecture me, Holland?"

"Would you believe me if I said a bit of both?" I turn back to him to find him already watching me with soft eyes. "I merely came to make sure you were doing alright. Those looks like some fairly nasty bruises."

"I've had worse."

"You shouldn't have had any." He counters easily. "If I didn't know you better, I'd try to convince you to listen to Mrs. Hudson and settle down."

"I think you and I both know that opportunity came and passed for me." I mumble and try to meet his eyes for a split second. It's quiet between us as neither of us know what to say.

Luckily, there's a knock on the door that dispels the tension. "Come in!" I call as I turn away from Thomas and try to pretend that moment didn't just happen.

Inspector Lestrade enters the parlor; eyes immediately becoming the size of saucers when he notices it's just Thomas and I—alone. "Pardon me if I'm interrupting anything."

"I assure you it's nothing of the sort." I tell him with a forced smile and faux ease. "I believe Vienna is the answer you're looking for."

"Pardon?"

"My father is in Vienna. I assume you came here for him since most of the constabulary doesn't appreciate a woman aiding them in investigations." I pause for a moment to take in his appearance, and I quickly realize why he came here in such a flustered state. "Although, I'm assuming that you're willing to overlook that in this case given the circumstances. A young woman being gruesomely murdered is nothing to trifle with."

"How did you know that? I didn't say anything of the sort." Lestrade snaps, his accent becoming thick with his growing frustration.

"I don't believe we have time for me to explain my methods of deduction to you." I sigh and turn to Thomas, who is already clenching his jaw at the idea of me getting myself into more trouble. "Give me a moment to clean up, and we can be on our way."

Hushed whispers erupt as I rush out of the room, and I barely make it to the door before a hand is gently wrapped around my wrist. "Y/N, you can't possibly be thinking of aiding in a murder investigation. It's far too dangerous, and I think even your father and uncle would agree."

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing neither of them are here to delay me with pointless arguments. There's no changing my mind once it's made up. So either help me, or step aside, Thomas." He lets out a heavy sigh at my use of his first name and releases my wrist.

"Fine, but expect me to be by your side at every turn. Your family would have my head if I let any harm come to you."

"As long as you refrain from slowing me down, I have no arguments." I quip, biting back a comment that harm has already come to me by his own hand. "Now, if you'll excuse me, we've already wasted enough time."

The moment I make it back to my room, I let out a heavy breath and try to mentally prepare myself for the likely countless hours I'll be spending with Thomas during this investigation. It is likely bound to end in disaster, but that is something I have become acquainted with. I suppose it seems to be a curse of the Holmes family. Good things tend to fall as splendidly as Rome until we're left with nothing but ashes.

Except, I can't help but wonder if just maybe, Thomas might be the lone Phoenix to rise from the disaster and last through it all. But even if he did, I doubt he would ever be willing to return to what we once were. I fear I truly have lost him forever along with any chance for love.

Yet, the human mind is a curious thing, and maybe one day, it all may change.

I brush the thought off as I slip out of my masculine clothes and opt for something practical but lady like enough to not give poor Mrs. Hudson a heart attack. It's a pair of loose fitting pants that working women sport and a blouse, but I don't bother to worry too much about it.

Instead, I make my way back to the parlor where the two inspectors are arguing in hushed whispers. "Now, gentlemen, if you're finished bickering like a pair of hens, I would very much like to get to the crime scene. Time's wasting, and as my father says, 'the game's afoot.'"


	50. holland & holmes pt.2

warnings: death, mentions of blood (and murder)

I can feel the glares of the constables following me as I enter the blocked off alleyway. My boots click against the cobblestones, creating a sense of rhythm to the chaos around me. "Holmes, it's a pleasure to see you again. Although, I do wish it was under better circumstances."

A soft smile creeps across my face at the sight and kindness of my old friend. "Careful, Osterfield, if you look too happy to see me, you may lose the support of your constables. As for the circumstances, I'm fairly certain my presence means they'll rarely be good." Harrison chuckles and shakes his head at me. "Now, where's the body?"

The light and humor quickly drains from Inspector Osterfield's blue eyes, and they quickly flicker behind me as he lets out a deep sigh. "I ought to warn you, this is one of the worst we've seen."

Thomas and Harrison both watch me intently as I keep my features stoic and nod. Papa always taught me how to keep myself objective and detached. "You and I feel too deeply, Y/N," he would say. "That means, sometimes, we have to put them away to do what needs to be done until we have the time to sort them out."

It was a difficult but necessary lesson. Everyone already harbors so much doubt and resentment towards my father and I. Although, he lacks the additional obstacles I face by merely being a woman. So I tread carefully around the constabulary and keep a stiff upper lip as we approach the body.

"Has anyone moved or touched the body?" Thomas asks as he unknowingly steals the words from my lips and opens his forensics bag.

"No, I know how fussy the pair of you get when that happens." Harrison jokes, oblivious to the sudden awkward tension that rises at Thomas and I being referred to as a pair.

I brush it off and analyze the scene. My eyes trail over the worn, dry cobblestone and take note of the outstretched limbs of the poor girl. There are a few obvious details that pique my interest. From her outstretched arms, to the stitches that tie her lips together, all the way to the distinct lack of blood at the scene.

Harrison drones on in the background, but I only vaguely listen until he says, "We don't have any identification on who she is yet, but—"

"Rosamond Carter." I tell him as I round the body and grab a few things from Thomas's bag. Both him and Harrison give me an odd look at the sudden statement, which makes me sigh and refrain from rolling my eyes. "Her father's in parliament. She frequents many of the same events we do and is well known for her flamboyance. I never personally met her, but I'm almost certain its her."

"How so?" Harrison asks as he watches me with that glimmer of curiosity in his blue eyes.

"Her necklace." I tell him and nod to the pendant around her neck. "It's engraved with her initials hidden in the rose petals. I'm acquainted with the jeweler she got it from; he only does work like that for the upper class and at a very high cost. Only someone with a lot of money could afford something as intricate as that, combined with the initials, the only logical option left was Rosamund."

"Any idea why she would be killed or dumped here?" Thomas questions, and I barely manage to meet his eyes as he speaks to me. "Or why would they have changed her clothing? I'm sure a woman of Rosamund's status wouldn't willingly wear pauper's clothing."

"You're right, she wouldn't. I think it speaks more of her killer than her." I say and crouch down by her head. My hands are already shaking a bit as I grasp the scissors to cut away the stitches. Although, I make the mistake of meeting her empty gaze. 

Her hazel eyes feel like they're accusing me, blaming me for using her death as a means of showing off and finding a way to benefit myself. It makes me screw my own shut and forcefully push the thought aside as I place those emotions in a box to deal with later. Instead, I focus on the task at hand.

"Holland, if you don't mind." I whisper and pray he doesn't notice the trembling in my hands and voice as I pass him the scissors to trade for pincers. He brushes his fingers over the back of my gloved hand as he takes them from me, and I feel my heart ache knowing he noticed. "I have a horrible feeling we're in for a bit of a surprise."

I can feel multiple gazes on me as I gently pull her mouth open and peer inside. Sure enough, there's a folded piece of paper tucked away. It unfolds with a surprising ease, and I tenderly hold it up as I read aloud. "She had it coming, and so will the rest. —M"

"So the killer left a note? Why? And what would be the purpose of signing it or saying there will be more killings?"

I pass the tweezers to Thomas who immediately reads it over before tucking it away in one of his brown evidence bags. "I don't know, but I intend to find out." I reply to Harrison's questions as I stand and brush off my pants. My eyes fall back to Rosamund's, and I feel the accusation and hatred filling up her gaze as if she knows my deepest fear.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make a few inquiries." I force myself to remain calm as I leave the crime scene, but the facade shatters under the pressure the moment I'm out of the constabulary's sight.

My chest constricts more with each breath. Tears building in my eyes and tracing down my cheeks as I swear the scar on my abdomen begins to hurt as horrendously as the day it all happened.

"It can't be him; he's dead." I whisper to myself, convinced the words will be more reassuring when said aloud. "There's no way he's back. I saw it myself, and Papa promised that he's gone."

 _"It wouldn't be the first time the great Sherlock Holmes was wrong."_ His chilling voice rings through my head. _"He survived; who can truly say that I didn't too?"_

"No, you're dead." I retort through gritted teeth to the figure that I know is only appearing from my imagination. "You don't get to haunt me anymore."

I unconsciously fiddle with the chain around my neck as the feeling slowly passes like a storm. It takes me a few minutes of even breathing and shaking fingers fiddling with the rings hung on the chain around my neck to truly calm down. Still, the world around me seems to be coated in the lingering panic and fear from a moment ago.

A frown etches its way across my features as I think it over. Papa survived; could Moriarty have done the same? Yet, this is unlike anything he would have done. The man—as vile as he was—always kept his movements and action subtle and crafted. A murder like this with a note left behind feels too sloppy—too careless.

Still, there's no use in being careless or dismissive. I remind myself as I try to brush off the remaining nerves and search for the nearest telegram office or phone. My best route to settling my fears is speaking with the only person who would know Moriarty as well as I—my father.

As I weave my way through the bustling crowds of the London streets, there's a lone figure that seems to be following me. The mere suspicion reignites that small bit of fear in me, and it take everything in me to remain level-headed as I duck into one of the the open-air shops.

My eyes dart around in search for anything to aid in a disguise. It's almost hard to focus with the overwhelming mix of the stench outside and the herbs burning here in an attempt to cover it. There's assortments of items scattered around which range from pageboy hats to gypsy remedies.

I hastily grab one of the long wraps similar to the women of the place wear and drop a few coins on the table as I rush out. When, I emerge, the same shadowy figure is looming a little way behind me in the market.

My disguise builds as I maneuver my way back toward the figure. I roll up my shirt sleeves and loosen my hair so it tumbles freely around my shoulders. All the while, I trade small items for each other until hardly anyone would look close enough to notice it's me.

The closer I get, I start to realize the identity of my pursuer. Thomas does his best to keep his head down in an attempt to hide the fact that he doesn't belong here and lost his query. I watch as his eyes flicker around from one face to the next; the fear in them seeming to grow with each passing second.

It sends my heart involuntarily fluttering. I brush it off and try to piece together the ever-growing puzzle of Inspector Thomas Holland. His posture remains rigid as I approach him, completely immersed in my makeshift disguise. "Care for you fortune, love?" I ask with a mimicked accent of those around me.

Thomas's eyes flicker over me as they continue his search while he mumbles a polite rejection. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. "How peculiar," I say in my own voice, "I never took you for someone who ignores someone based on origin or status; or maybe you're simply too preoccupied."

His eyes immediately snaps to me, and he lets out a heavy sigh when he's sure it really is me. "Holmes." He grimaces and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Holland," I quip, "You know, I'm perfectly capable of caring for myself, but if you insist on being my nanny, you could at least do it properly. I would think you of all people know that I don't appreciate people lurking behind me."

"Well, you left so quickly, I couldn't exactly find you right away. I didn't want to lose you again." His voice grows tender as he speaks, and we both remain deathly silent for a moment to take in the double meaning of his words.

Everything goes a little hazy as he steps closer to brush a strand of hair from my eyes. "Are you alright? I'm certain we share the same fear after that note."

I bite my tongue as I consider how to answer. Thomas was there through everything that happened with Moriarty. He knew of the terror that lingers from his actions, of the nightmares, and the dread from the idea of his chance survival. He was the one who helped me reconnect with the world outside my Baker Street flat after it all.

Yet, I don't know if I can be that vulnerable to him again—not after how it ended between us. So, I force a calm expression. "I'll be fine once we apprehend our culprit and know the truth."

It's clear he doesn't believe me entirely, but he knows better than to push me too far. "Alright, where do we start?"

"Same place as always, where the evidence directs." I tell him with a smile, "In this case, we look further into the life of our heiress."


	51. holland & holmes pt.3

Three weeks, that's how long it's taken us to finally make some headway in this case, and I can only imagine the lecture I would get from Papa about taking so long. But it wasn't until we had a second murder that we were finally able to make some headway.

I'm certain it's not Moriarty, but I do believe it's someone who is almost as demented as he was. The second murder finally gave us clues started lining up with my deductions and creating a clear path, which led us here.

I force myself to take a deep breath as Thomas and I enter the glittering ballroom. My free hand keeps gravitating to the emerald silk of my gown, and eyes flicker from the passing faces to the glittering ring that's on my hand once again. "You remember the plan?" I ask Thomas, as we smile and greet people in passing.

"Of course," he whispers and turns to me with a frown, "I just don't know how I feel about it."

"This is our best chance, Holland." I whisper as I move towards the dance floor where we're less likely to be heard. "If we don't catch him tonight, I can guarantee it we'll have another dead lady of the court by morning. It's not a choice this time, now dance with eye so I can get a good view of our suspects."

Thomas lets out a heavy sigh as we start the choreography in sync with the others. "Who exactly are we looking for?"

"Male, likely in his late twenties, likely attractive enough to gain attention, but lacks the charisma to keep it." I tell him as my eyes scan the room through our possible suspects. "Based on the victims, he either was previously engaged or still is, but with the victim's reputations, we can assume she either has or is cheating on him."

"That makes for quite a list of suspects, you know." Thomas whispers, which makes my focus waver from the feeling of his breath on my neck. "Most of the men in here have experienced something of that sort."

"Well, then I suppose we flush him out." I counter and bow to him as the song ends. "Come on, Holland, we don't have a moment to waste."

I spend the next dreadful hour mingling and forcing smiles by Thomas's side before we move to initiate the next phase of the plan. It's not until he starts to drag me to one of the hidden little alcoves that I finally come back to my senses. "Thomas Holland, what are you doing?" I seethe in a hushed whisper.

He turns to me with a sheepish smile as we find ourselves crammed together in the small space. "I'm sorry, but I just wanted a moment with you before this all happens. Not to mention, there's one thing I need to do."

"What are yo—" I start to say, but the words are hastily cut off by Thomas's hand on my waist and lips against mine. It's only takes me a moment to recover from the shock and kiss him back. My heart warms in my chest; this is something that I missed so much—just being close to Thomas again without the tension or social barriers.

He pulls away with a smile. "I'm sorry, but I had to do that before I lost my chance."

"As much as I'd love to continue this conversation," I sigh and sadly smile up at him, "we do have a murderer to catch."

"Of course," his voice is quiet and unsure, "I'll send Harrison by then."

A part of me wants to reach out to him as he leaves, but I know now isn't the time for that conversation. I need to keep my head in the moment instead of worrying about what just happened. 

My fingers brush over my lips as the feeling still lingers, and I can't stop the smile that creeps across my face. It's not until I hear rustling from the hallway that I return from my fanciful daydreaming. "Harrison, I thought you knew better than to take your time with these things." I whisper in the assumption that he's the one making the noise. The notion quickly fades as I hear a deep, unfamiliar voice muttering under their breath.

"I am mercy. I bring cleansing to the corrupted." The shadow steps into view, face barely illuminated in the dim lighting. "I bring justice; I am mercy." Goosebumps rise across my skin as the stranger comes closer, and it takes me a long moment to realize who it is—Lord Alfred Barrowman.

I remember reading in the papers that Thomas brought me in my isolation about his family. His father was under Moriarty's thumb, and after his passing, the Barrowman's corruption and dirty laundry was hung out to dry in the public eye. If I remember correctly, which I almost certainly do, it was his sister who ruined the family reputation. She had been involved in quite the scandal by becoming pregnant by her betrothed. I remember Mrs. Hudson's lectures on what it means to be a proper lady and such after the story came out.

"Huh, for once I was wrong." I mutter under my breath as I slip my hand back to the secret pocket in the back of my dress. "Why are you doing this, Alfred?"

"You all deserve it. The guilty must be tried and cleansed before their corruption spreads." He tells me in what I would think was a daze if not for the malicious gleam in his eye. I stand my ground and try to bite back the fear as my fingers just barely graze the handle of my knife before Alfred closes in on me and presses a handkerchief to my face. "Don't worry; this will all be over soon."

I struggle against him, fighting for what I know might just be my life and hold my breath to avoid the chemicals. He grows in frustration as he slams me against the nearest wall and clamps my free hand against the wall. My head spins as it makes contact with the wall; the sensation making me take in an involuntary gasp.

My nose burns from the chemicals, and I am suddenly returned to the night on Baker Street that Moriarty came to make me the queen in his sick game against my father. It brings tears in my eyes as I feel trapped as I was that night, and I push off the wall with a strength beyond myself and slam Alfred into the opposing side.

Everything falls under the haze of adrenaline, and I barely register my actions until Alfred lets out a scream. His eyes fill with malice as he looks up from the blood pouring out of his leg. My knife is trapped in my white-knuckled grip as he launches himself at me in the blink of an eye.

Alfred throws me to the ground and grabs a vase of flowers off the table. "You shouldn't have done that." He growls as he towers over me and swings the vase at my head. It makes contact against my temple with an unsettling crack, and everything suddenly goes black.


End file.
